


All I Ever Wanted

by notnicorette



Series: All I Ever Wanted [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 128,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notnicorette/pseuds/notnicorette
Summary: Clarke comes back, asking the delinquents for forgiveness--Bellamy takes the longest to grant it. It's hard to forgive someone who has the power to break your heartOR Clarke and Bellamy as BFFs who don't understand the concept of personal spaceOR Clarke and Bellamy fall in love over grief, classic TV, pie, and how much they care about each other.*Modern AU that holds a lot of the same elements as canon-verse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, basically, I started writing an AU fic while in the middle of writing my canon-verse fic. Idk what to tell you...I'm disappointed in me too. Hopefully at least one of them will be complete before the new season premieres. (Hope springs eternal, y'all.) Thanks to Heather, for bouncing ideas around with me, beta'ing, and generally putting up with me.
> 
> P.S.-assume that Clarke was extremely smart and got through high school and college quickly.
> 
> P.P.S.-assume that my knowledge of all things medical comes from vague memories of Grey's Anatomy and is probably not at all correct

“Hello?”

“Are you sure I should do this?” Clarke asked as she unlocked her car, sliding into the driver’s seat and tossing her backpack on the seat beside her.

“Clarke.” Octavia’s voice was exasperated.

“I just…what if they’re still pissed at me? What if they don’t really want me there?”

“They DO want you there. Raven and Jasper both texted me earlier to make sure I’d talked you into going.”

Clarke sighed, leaning her head against the seat rest. “This would be a lot easier if you were here, you know.”

“I know, but Lincoln couldn’t help where he got stationed.” Octavia’s long-time boyfriend, who was in the military, had recently gotten transferred to a base a few hours east of Los Angeles. Octavia, of course, had gone with him.

“But California is so freaking far away from Virginia.”

“I know it is. But that’s why you need to reconnect with Raven and the guys.”

Clarke let out a long sigh.

“Stop stalling, Griffin. They want you there. And you want to be there. Just suck it up, go apologize, and have some fun again, won’t ya?”

“Talk to you later, O.”

“Always.”

Clarke pressed the End button, setting her phone in the cup holder as she started her car and put on her seatbelt. Before she could reach for the gearshift, her phone was vibrating against the loose change in the bottom of the cup holder and causing an unholy racket.

Frowning, she picked it back up, expecting it to be Octavia.

Instead, she found the name “Raven Reyes” flashing on her screen.

Hesitating only a moment, she answered with a tentative “Hello?”

“Clarke! Get your ass over here!” Raven fairly shouted from the other end of the line.

“Octavia called you, didn’t she? Seriously, I just hung up from her, how did she even have time…?”

“Texted me, actually. Something along the lines of ‘Clarke’s trying to bail.’ Since I figured you were going to turn chicken shit on me anyway, I just went ahead and called you to tell you that if you don’t get your ass over here in 10, I’m going to drag it here.”

Clarke couldn’t help the small smile that flitted across her face. “Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to crash or anything.” She bit her lip unconsciously, waiting for her friend’s reply.

“Don’t be stupid. You know you’re always welcome. The pizza is on its way and Jasper brought some weird ass board game we’re trying to figure out how to turn into a drinking game. You’re totally on my team, by the way.”

Clarke heard some muffled protests from the background.

Raven’s voice carried as she responded, “No way. I’m not getting stuck with you losers. Now shut up.”

“Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Just your ass.” Raven replied cheekily, referring to her threat from earlier.

“Yeah, that’s kind of part of the package.”

“Oh, good. I was afraid you’d gotten it surgically removed or something. Don’t you guys practice doing procedures on each other? I’ve seen Grey’s Anatomy.”

Clarke chuckled. “Yeah, stuff like drawing blood and giving injections. Ass removal? Not so much.”

“Oh. Good. You’d probably look weird without one.”

Clarke snorted. “Just a little.”

“Now quit stalling and get your still connected posterior over here.”

Clarke smiled, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she put the car in reverse and backed out of her space in the hospital parking garage. “You’re in Bellamy’s building now, right?”

“Yup. Well, technically the one connected to it. Park on the other side of the building and text me when you get here. I’ll have to send someone down to let you in.”

“You don’t have a buzzer either?” Clarke said, remembering that Bellamy’s building had also lacked them.

“Nope. The building’s too old, apparently. I keep threatening to put one in myself, but the landlord’s kind of a dick, so…”

“Got it.” Clarke paused. “Speaking of Bellamy…do you guys hang out?”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“…is he going to be there tonight?” Clarke worried her lower lip again.

Clarke could hear Raven walking and the background noise diminishing, as if she’d moved away from the other people in her apartment.

“He might stop by. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Raven let out a long breath. “I know you two have your issues, but can’t we all just move on? He’s got a girlfriend now anyway, and she sort of calms him down. Plus, he’s not around quite as much anymore.”

Clarke pulled the phone away from her face, staring at the screen as if it would suddenly solve her confusion. She put the phone back to her ear just as she turned into the gas station on the corner. “Bellamy has a girlfriend? Like…the same girl? All the time? Bellamy?”

It may have been almost a year since she’d seen Bellamy, but he’d always been the one-night-stand guy. The thought of him having a girlfriend didn’t even compute.

“Yeah, for a couple months now. I’m not gonna lie…it’s weird. But Gina’s cool, so we’re all sort of getting used to it.”

“Oh.” Clarke paused again, wondering why the butterflies in her stomach seemed to have turned into something larger…like pterodactyls. “Okay…”

“But yeah, he doesn’t hang out with the group as much anymore, so you may not see him tonight anyway.”

“Got it.” Clarke smoothed a hand over her stomach, not sure if that made her happy or…not. She got out of the car and walked into the gas station, heading straight for the wall of refrigeration coolers at the back. “I’ll be there in 10.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket to send Raven a quick text.

Clarke: _here_

Raven: _Jasper’s on his way down. I warned him not to tackle-hug you, but you know my threats of violence lose their influence the farther away from me he gets._

Clarke smiled as she slid her phone back into her pocket, grabbed her wallet and got out of the car. By the time she’d walked back to the trunk, Jasper was already coming out of the building.

He paused when he saw her.

Clarke unconsciously held her breath, wondering what his next move would be. Jasper was probably the most easy-going of the group. If he couldn’t get past what she’d done…

Before she could even finish her thought, Jasper had smiled, walked over to her, and wrapped her in a hug.

It wasn’t quite the tackle-hug Raven had warned her of, but it was pretty awesome, nonetheless.

Clarke wrapped her arms around him, smiling as some of the dread left her body. “I’m sorry…” she began.

Jasper interrupted her. “Clarke, seriously, I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re back.”

Clarke nodded as he finally released her.

He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door. “Come on, everyone wants to see you and you’re going to love Raven’s new place.”

She laughed. Jasper’s enthusiasm hadn’t changed. “Wait! I have stuff in the trunk!”

By the time they’d gotten the bags out of her trunk and rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, a few nerves had managed to return. She paused just outside the apartment door Jasper was about to open.

He turned to her, giving her an encouraging smile. “I promise, It’ll be fine.”

Clarke nodded, following him inside.

“Hey, Jasper.”

Clarke couldn’t even see him around Jasper’s frame yet, but it only took those two words for her to know that Bellamy was, indeed, in attendance.

“Bellamy.” Jasper nodded toward the back of the living room, much more subdued than usual.

“Why is everyone acting like someone died? What’s going…” Bellamy stopped talking as Jasper finally stepped into the kitchen, exposing Clarke, who’d been behind him.

Bellamy’s face registered complete shock, followed by something that Clarke would have sworn was happiness…before a mask slid into place. His jaw was locked, his eyes were flaring, and she swore she could even see his nose twitch as he tried to take a deep breath. His eyes quickly left her, instead flicking over the other people in the room accusatorily. “What is SHE doing here?”

Raven hopped up from her place on the couch, walking quickly toward Clarke, her eyes wide in apology. Raven started talking softly just as she reached her. “Sorry, he just got here. I didn’t even know if he was coming…”

Clarke managed a tight smile for the girl she’d once loved like a sister, yet hadn’t seen in almost a year. “It’s fine.”

Raven wrapped her in a quick hug, then linked arms with her, pulling her further into the living room. “Clarke is here because we all want her here.”

Bellamy’s gaze sliced through her. “If I remember correctly, that wasn’t the problem.”

Clarke sucked in a breath. “No. You’re right. It wasn’t.” She paused. “But I want to be here too.”

Bellamy continued to glare at her before rolling his eyes and looking away. “Well, aren’t we lucky?” He raised his beer to his lips, quickly draining half the bottle.

Raven cleared her throat, motioning to the girl sitting beside Bellamy on the couch. To be honest, Clarke hadn’t even noticed her until now. “Clarke, this is Gina…Bellamy’s girlfriend. Gina…Clarke.”

Clarke took a moment to study Gina. She was pretty, maybe a few years older than Clarke’s 24, which would put her closer to Bellamy’s 29. “It’s nice to meet you,” Clarke said quietly.

Gina was currently looking back and forth between Clarke and her own boyfriend, trying to decide what her reaction should be.

Since Bellamy refused to do anything but stare at a spot above Raven’s TV and continue downing his beer, Gina eventually settled for a small smile, accompanied by a “Nice to meet you, too.”

Bellamy snorted, slouching lower on the couch, although his jaw still looked like it could cut glass.

Clarke finally pulled her gaze away from the couple on the couch to glance at the other people in the room. Raven still had an arm linked with hers, Jasper was standing in the doorway, having returned from setting the bags down in the kitchen, and Monty and Miller were sitting on the floor around the coffee table. Everyone was looking at her uncertainly…except for Bellamy, who was still staring at what must have been a particularly interesting spot on Raven’s wall.

Clarke cleared her throat. “I need to apologize to all of you. I don’t know…I don’t know how to explain what I did or why, but everything just really sucked and I responded by making everything worse. It’s not an excuse, but I was just in a really bad place and I thought I needed to…become someone else. But I hurt all of you in the process and…I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want me here.”

There was a pregnant pause, during which Clarke held her breath, waiting for them to kick her out.

Instead, Monty got up, walked the few steps to her, and enveloped her in a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look at him questioningly. “You’re sorry? What on earth are you sorry for?”

Monty shrugged. “I’m sorry for everything you went through.”

Clarke felt an uncontrollable sob move through her. Before she knew it, a tear was sliding down her cheek. Of course it would be Monty and his compassion that ended up getting to her. She pulled him into another hug.

Before she knew it, Raven was replacing him, hugging her tightly and saying, “Glad you’re back, Griffin.”

As soon as she was freed from Raven’s grasp, Jasper was in front of her again.

She looked up at him, half laughing, half crying. “Didn’t we already do this?”

 “Yeah, but you owe me like…eleven months’ worth of hugs.”

Clarke laughed as he hugged her again.

When Jasper released her, she was surprised to see Miller standing behind him.

Miller had always been more on the fringes of the group; he was Bellamy’s friend and he hadn’t gone to college with Clarke, Octavia, Raven, Jasper, and Monty. Bellamy brought him along to group stuff sometimes, but Miller’s quiet nature made it hard for the rest of the group to get close to him. He’d been around, but he’d always been mostly Bellamy’s friend. It seemed that in the year since Clarke had been MIA, perhaps the dynamics had changed a bit.

Miller gave her a small smile. “I know I wasn’t really involved in all of this…” he gestured to the others, “…but can I still get a hug?”

Clarke smiled, stepping toward him and wrapping her arms around his back.

He hugged her tighter than she would have expected.

When his mouth was near her ear, he quietly said, “Just give him time.”

Clarke’s eyes landed on Bellamy, who was watching her hug his best friend. “What?” She responded quietly.

Miller was quiet for a moment before she felt his shoulders shrug slightly. “He missed you.”

Clarke tried not to make her shock evident as Miller stepped back, saying loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Glad you’re back.”

Bellamy sat his beer bottle on the coffee table none-too-gently. “Are you guys going to sing Kumbaya all night or are we going to play Jasper’s stupid game?”

“It’s not stupid!” Jasper retorted.

Raven sat down on a large ottoman, pulling Clarke down beside her and opening Jasper’s infamous board game. “I don’t know, Jas. I’ve barely taken the lid off and I already see a dragon, mushrooms, something that looks like a spaceship, and about 1500 cards.”

Jasper shrugged. “I don’t know. I found it in my parents’ basement. I remember my older brother and his friends loving it when I was a kid.”

Monty grinned. “Your older brother? Derek?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Monty’s smirk widened.

“What?!”

“I’m pretty sure your brother and his friends spent most of the 90’s stoned.”

“Oh.” Jasper looked down at the odd game. “Yeah, that would probably make more sense.”

Raven snorted. “Well, I don’t have any weed, but I do have a shit ton of beer. That’s got to make this make more sense, right?” She got up and headed for the kitchen. “Who needs one?”

Almost everyone responded affirmatively.

Raven came back a few minutes later, passing out beers and setting the bag of junk food that Clarke had brought on the table. “I told you not to bring anything, Griffin!” She turned the bag upside down, scattering a few different kinds of potato chips and other convenience store goodies all over the table.

Clarke watched as Bellamy’s eyes landed on a bag of hot sauce popcorn. It was ridiculously spicy and he was the only one in the group who enjoyed it, but it was one of his favorites. Clarke was the one who had introduced him to it a few years ago, since she knew of his penchant for trying to burn his taste buds off. She wasn’t even sure what possessed her to buy it tonight, especially since Raven had said that Bellamy most likely wouldn’t even be here.

He started at the bag for a moment before his eyes moved to her.

She shrugged, giving him a small smile.

He continued to watch her for a moment before he forced his eyes away.

She watched as he deliberately reached for a bag of Doritos instead.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple hours had passed, and in those hours, Jasper had admitted his board game was damn weird, Raven and Miller had started taking a shot every time Jasper looked at the instructions and still came away confused, and Clarke had started to feel like maybe, just maybe, she could come home again.

Just then, Bellamy got up from the couch, taking his empty beer bottle into the kitchen.

Clarke took a deep breath, grabbed her almost empty bottle, and followed him.

Bellamy hadn’t exactly acknowledged her existence since the chip incident, but he also looked a little less like he wanted to punch something, so Clarke was going to take her opportunity where she could get it.

When she turned the corner into the kitchen, Bellamy had his back to her, and as far as she could tell, he was just standing there, hands resting on the counter beside Raven’s sink.

“Hey,” she said, tentatively.

She noticed his back immediately tense.

He turned around slowly, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest as he slowly appraised her, his eyes running over her from head to toe. “You know, you look a little like someone I used to know. Or at least, someone I thought I knew.”

Clarke’s eyes closed, as if that could protect her from his harsh words. Because, coming from someone who’d once known her almost as well as he knew his own sister, that was one of the most hurtful things he could have said. She also deserved it. “That’s fair.”

He pushed off the counter, moving as if he was going to go around her.

Her hand reached for his arm, barely brushing it before he pulled away. “Bell, wait.”

He was back to glaring at her. “What do you want, Clarke?”

“I don’t know! I need to apologize, to tell you how sorry I am. I need to…I don’t know, Bellamy, but I need to fix it.”

Just as Bellamy was about to answer, his phone dinged from in his pocket. “Why do you care, Clarke?” Pulling his phone out, he frowned at the screen, then turned his glare back on Clarke. “Does my sister know you’re here??” He asked accusatorily  

Clarke nodded. “She’s the one that talked me into coming.”

Bellamy’s jaw twitched. “So you didn’t want to be here.”

“No! That’s not what I meant! I kept chickening out, thinking you guys wouldn’t want me here. Octavia’s the one that convinced me that I should do it.” She paused, searching his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to see you guys for months.”

He studied her. “How long have you been talking to her?”

Clarke swallowed. “I take it she didn’t tell you?”

“No.” He was pissed and he wasn’t even attempting to hide it.

“We got back in touch a few months ago. Right before she left, actually.”

“My sister has been talking to you for THREE MONTHS and didn’t bother telling me?!”

Clarke looked away. “I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Bellamy stepped closer to her, his voice lowering dangerously. “Did you beg her to take you back? Or did she beg you to come back even though you were being an asshole?”

Clarke swallowed and looked away, remembering a time when Bellamy had been the one begging her to come back. “I…Neither. It’s a long story.” Clarke looked back at him. “Was the text from Octavia?”

He rolled his eyes.

Clarke felt the urge to smile for the first time since she’d entered the kitchen. “What did she say?”

Bellamy sighed, tilting the screen toward her.

Octavia: _promise me you won’t be an ass_

One side of Clarke’s mouth lifted in a grin.

Bellamy watched her, his eyes softening before he looked away, almost as if he wanted to join her, but couldn’t.

“Bell…you have every right to be an ass to me. But just…give me a chance. It doesn’t have to be tonight, but just give me a chance.” She hesitantly placed her hands on his arms, which were again crossed on his chest. “I don’t want you to hate me,” she said quietly.

His eyes flicked to hers. “I don’t…” he sighed. “I don’t want to hate you.”

She smiled tightly, nodding her understanding. “We should get back out there,” she said, gesturing to the living room as she stepped away from him. “They probably think we killed each other by now.”

He nodded, heading for the fridge. “I’ll be right there.”

Clarke smoothed her palms over her jeans, taking a deep breath before she walked back into the room with the rest of their friends.

Raven glanced up from the ottoman. “Everything okay?” She asked softly.

Clarke shrugged. “Getting there.”

Raven nodded. “You didn’t grab another beer?”

Clarke shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t drink anymore. I’ve been staying at my Mom’s and I’ll have to drive home in a bit.”

Bellamy passed her on his way back from the kitchen. “You’re living all the way out in the suburbs?”

Clarke nodded. “Mom has that giant house all to herself and I think we both needed some time together to figure things out. Plus, after living with Octavia for so long, I wasn’t really up to finding an apartment in the city on my own. Not right now, anyway.” Clarke glanced at Bellamy nervously, wondering if she’d messed up by mentioning Octavia.

Bellamy just nodded as he took his place on the couch next to Gina.

Gina looked surprised. “You and Octavia were roommates for a long time?”

“Yeah. Since we were 18, actually.”

Gina’s eyebrows rose, as if she was surprised by this information.

Clarke continued, “We were matched in the dorms freshman year of college, roomed together sophomore year too, then got an apartment together after that.”

Jasper pulled himself up from where he’d all but collapsed on the floor a few minutes ago. “Don’t you and your mom like…hate each other though?”

Monty smacked him on the back of the head.

Clarke laughed. “Yeah, sometimes. We’re working on it, though. Plus, between her being Chief of Surgery at General West and me just starting my internship at Memorial East, we’re rarely ever home at the same time anyway.” Clarke joined Raven on the ottoman. “The commute does suck sometimes though, especially when I’m exhausted, which is basically all the time now.”

Raven patted her arm. “Well, you’ve got a couch to crash on anytime you need it. A couch that’s like…two blocks away from the hospital,” she said, gesturing to the piece of furniture beside her.

“Thanks,” Clarke said, touched by the gesture, given everything that had happened.

Jasper threw the paper with the board game directions on it behind him. “Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Let’s try one more time.”

A shower of various items hit him, including chips, pizza crusts, a throw pillow off the couch, and what looked like…a fly swatter?

Everyone turned to Raven, who’d thrown it.

She shrugged. “What? It was all I could reach.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Listen, all I’m saying is, he could have at least TRIED to wait until I put a diaper on him before he turned into a human piss fountain.” Bryan said, walking out of the shower stall with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Clarke chuckled, opening her locker. “I just spent the last six hours doing Kane’s charts. I’m pretty sure I’d have RATHER been pissed on by an infant.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d just had to wash pee out of your hair.”

Before Clarke could respond, her phone vibrated from inside the pocket of her scrubs. Checking the display, she saw Raven’s name.

“Hello?”

“Hey! What are you doing?” Raven asked.

“Just got off my shift at the hospital. Why?”

“Good! We’re all going to that dive bar over on Washington Street. The one beside the dry cleaners. Meet us there?”

Clarke took a deep breath, contemplating. It had been almost a week since she’d crashed game night, and while she’d exchanged texts with Raven, Jasper, and Monty, she hadn’t heard from Bellamy and she wasn’t sure he’d want her tagging along. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Griffin, don’t make me threaten your gluteus maximus.”

Clarke smirked. “Reyes, did you look up the scientific name for ass just to impress me?”

“Of course I did. I figured I’d have to threaten it again eventually. Wanted to make it seem like I knew what I was talking about. The threat carries more weight that way, ya know?”

Clarke chuckled. “It definitely does.” She glanced at Bryan, who was just pulling a The Flash t-shirt over his head at a locker a few down from hers. “Can I bring a friend?”

 

* * *

  

Clarke pushed open the door to the bar, scanning the room for her friends as she stepped inside. Spotting them near the back, beside the dart board, she motioned for Bryan to follow her.

“Hey, guys!”

The table responded, almost in unison. Jasper, Raven, and Monty all seemed happy to see her, Gina seemed slightly distrustful, and Bellamy seemed to be ignoring her completely, instead focusing on Bryan, who was standing slightly behind Clarke.

Clarke turned, pulling Bryan to stand beside her. “This is Bryan. He just started his internship too. He also got peed on by a newborn today, so someone should probably buy him a beer.”

Bryan started to protest, but Clarke cut him off. “No, I’m not doing it again. I bought you a beer last week when that kid with appendicitis threw up on you. It’s someone else’s turn.”

Bryan smiled good-naturedly. “If I recall correctly, I was only on the ER shift because I switched with SOMEONE so they could assist on that craniotomy.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Craniotomy, Clarke. Power tools. Removal. Of. Skull.” He enunciated each word. “And I got to put in IV’s, set broken bones, and get thrown up on all night.”

Clarke was laughing, as was most of the table. “Okay, fine. You’re a great friend and I owe you another beer. By the way, these are the guys.” She introduced everyone.

Bryan gave a wave. “Nice to meet you all.”

Raven pulled out the chair next to her. “Have a seat, Doctor.” She waited until he complied. “Please tell me you have embarrassing stories about Clarke at the hospital.”

Bryan grinned over his shoulder at Clarke. “Tons, actually.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and started backing towards the bar. “I’m going to spit in your beer.”

She’d just placed her order at the bar when she felt Bellamy beside her. “Hey,” she said cautiously.

He continued to look straight ahead, watching as the bartender made a drink. “I see you didn’t have any trouble meeting people.”

Clarke frowned. “I mean…I’ve made a few friends at the hospital. It’s hard not to when you spend like 60 hours a week together. It’s not the same as you guys though.”

Bellamy snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Clarke turned to face him more fully, even though he still wasn’t looking at her. “What’s wrong? Do you not like Bryan or something? He’s a really nice guy.”

Bellamy finally looked at her. “If you say so.” He started for the other end of the bar, where another bartender was working. “I’m going down there, see if it’s any faster.”

Clarke watched him go, unsure of what she’d done wrong now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Like I said...elements of canon.

Clarke rolled her eyes and chuckled at Jasper, who’d decided that it would be a good idea to eat everyone’s limes and was currently making a face that belonged in a horror movie.

The bar had gotten more crowded since they’d arrived and the noise level had increased considerably, making speaking regularly difficult.

She felt Bryan scoot closer to her, leaning in to say, “Is he always this…” he trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

Clarke laughed, turning to face him. “Weird? Crazy? Juvenile? Yes. The answer is yes to all of the above. He’s great though.” She put a hand on his arm, which was resting on the table. “Are you having fun? Glad you came?”

He smiled, seemingly sincere. “Yeah. Your friends are great. And I have to admit, it’s nice to get out of that hospital every once in a while. I should probably be sleeping right now, but where’s the fun in that?”

Clarke smiled in complete understanding. “I know. We have to be back in…” She checked her watch and grimaced. “…nine hours. That’s enough time for at least one more game of darts, right?”

“One more beer too, I’d say.” Bryan winked, heading for the bar.

“Do you want to play darts?” Clarke heard Gina ask Bellamy from across the table.

“No.” He replied, arms crossed as he slouched down in his seat, which was the position he’d been in for most of the night.

Gina sighed. “Want to dance?”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, turning to face him. “What is wrong with you tonight?”

He finally glanced up from his beer bottle to look at her. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re acting like a jerk, Bellamy.”

He frowned. “No, I’m not.”

“You haven’t moved from this seat or had a conversation with anyone, including me, the entire night.”

“So what?”

Gina just stared at him for a moment. “You know what? I think I’m going to go.” She stood up but didn’t leave yet, apparently waiting for his response.    

He moved his attention back to his beer bottle. “K,” he replied, seemingly unaffected.

Gina huffed, grabbing her purse and leaving.

Bellamy didn’t even seem to notice.

Raven’s eyebrows had risen so far, they were almost to her hairline. “Dude.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to her. “What?”

“You might want to go after her.”

He scoffed. “What? Why?”

Raven’s eyes opened even wider. “She’s pretty pissed at you right now.”

He took a drink of his beer. “Why? Cause I didn’t want to dance? She’ll get over it.”

Raven’s face slowly transformed into a smirk as she pulled out her phone and presumably started texting someone.

Now Bellamy was looking at her warily. “What’s that look for?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Nothing at all.” She continued pecking at her phone, still smirking.

Just then, Bryan returned with two beers, handing one to Clarke. “Darts?”

Clarke looked back at the table, where Bellamy had taken to glaring at Raven and Raven was still engrossed in her phone.

“Sure,” she responded, following him to the empty dart board.

Bryan made sure there was enough distance between the table and them before he asked, “Everything okay? It seemed like I walked in on something. And did Bellamy’s girlfriend leave?”

Clarke frowned. “Yeah. I’m not sure what’s going on, honestly.”

He watched her speculatively for a moment, rolling a dart in between his fingers. “Does Bellamy know I’m gay?”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I didn’t say anything to him about it. Why?” Her eyes widened and she took a step closer to him. “He’s not homophobic or anything. I promise he’s not like that,” she rushed. “His best friend is gay and he knows I’m bi. Your sexual orientation has nothing to do with why he’s being an ass, I promise.”

Bryan chuckled. “Actually, I think it might have a lot to do with it.”

Raven took that moment to wrap her arm around Clarke’s neck, almost choking her in the process. “What’s up, Doctor-people?”

“Just kicking your friend’s ass at darts,” Bryan responded.

Clarke rolled her eyes and handed her darts to Raven. “Here, take over for me, will you? Someone needs to bring him down a peg or two.”

“Sure,” Raven replied, more than happy to trounce a male, especially at a physical activity. “You should probably go talk to Groucho over there anyway.”

Clarke sighed, her gaze finding the back of Bellamy’s head. “Why? Apparently I’m the reason he’s being an ass. Won’t me going over there make it worse?”

“Hmm,” Raven pondered as she took her shot, easily making a bullseye.

Both girls chuckled as Bryan glared at them and then went to retrieve the darts.

When his back was to them, Raven whispered to Clarke, “You were hoping Miller was going to be here so you could introduce him to McDreamy over there, right?”

“Yeah, that was the plan. Why? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“No, I think it’s a great idea. I’ll let you know the next time Miller is hanging out with us so you can bring him by again.”

Clarke smiled. “Thanks.”

“Yup. Now go talk to him.” She nodded in Bellamy’s direction.

Clarke sighed, but walked over to the table anyway. “Bellamy, can we talk?”

He turned toward her, still scowling. “Why?”

“Please?” She gestured behind her, toward the exit.

Plunking his beer bottle down on the table, he sighed, then reluctantly got up to follow her.

Clarke waited until they’d made it outside, standing on the sidewalk outside the bar, before she turned to face him. “Seriously. Why are you being an ass? I know you have a problem with me being back, but you weren’t even this pissed off last time. What changed?”

Bellamy started at her for a few minutes before scrubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Clarke. I thought I could deal with you being back, but then I remember what you did and…”

“So yell at me.”

His gaze flicked to hers, surprised. “What?”

“Yell at me. Tell me what a bitch I am. Tell me I don’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness. Go ahead.”

Bellamy looked rattled by her suggestion. “Clarke…”

“I can take it. And I think you need to say it if we ever have any hope of moving past this. So go ahead.”

He still looked uncomfortable. “I’m not going to…”

Clarke interrupted him. “I hurt your sister, Bellamy. The person you love most in this entire world. I fucked her over and I broke her heart in the process. _Yell at me._ ”

Mentioning Octavia seemed to give him the anger he needed, and Clarke was sure the copious amounts of beer he’d consumed tonight helped him along as well. “You think this will help? Fine. I get that you thought you needed to get away or whatever, but _why_ did you have to do that to my sister in the process?”

“I don’t know.”

Bellamy started pacing in front of her on the sidewalk. “You know she doesn’t trust people, Clarke. She doesn’t let anyone in, not really. She probably has dozens of friends, but she keeps them all at a distance. The way we grew up, we learned not to let anyone in, not to trust anyone.” He stopped and got in her face. “No one but _each other_. And then you come along and worm your way in until she thought you were family. _Family_ , Clarke. She _trusted_ you. She thought you were in our lives for good. And then you find out some terrible news, and I _get_ that it was horrible, finding that out. Trust me, I get it. But Octavia…she would have been there for you. She would have helped you get through it. She even tried to give you your space, but then you were just _gone_. We even tried to get you to come back and you just...” He stared deep into her eyes, almost beseechingly. “Why didn’t you let…her…help you? Why did you disappear, like everyone else in our lives? You betrayed her, Clarke. Do you even get that?”

Clarke was struck by the desperation in his voice and it brought her near tears. “I do, Bellamy. I hate that I did that to her. She trusted me, and I failed her. I feel absolutely horrible about hurting her. She was my family too and she still is. I don’t know what else to say except that I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”

He just stood there watching her, breathing heavily as if his speech had cost him a lot. Frowning, he hesitantly replied, “I just don’t know if that’s enough, Clarke.”

She stepped closer to him. “I understand your anger, Bellamy, I do. And I’m not saying we can act like it never happened and go back to normal tomorrow. But you’re acting like you’re never going to be able to be in the same room with me again.” Her eyes searched his. “Octavia has already forgiven me. Why do you seem even angrier than she was?”

Color rose to Bellamy’s cheeks and he gestured wildly. “I’m her older brother, Clarke! I’ve taken care of her since she was an infant! _I_ protect her. _I_ make sure she doesn’t get hurt. And _I_ let her get taken in by you.” He hunched over, his face coming even closer to hers. “I was distrustful of you when I first met you when I helped Octavia move into the freshman dorms all those years ago. All that money, all those friends in high places, all those silver spoons…I told Octavia not to get close to you…that there was no way you knew how to be a good friend. You had to be selfish and manipulative, just like everyone else we’d ever known, and all that wealth had to make you even worse. But then you started helping O with her chemistry homework, even when you had homework of your own…and then you’d text me to let me know she was okay after frat parties and football games because you knew I was worried sick and she was already passed out in her dorm bed…and then you started coming over to my apartment with her for dinner and half the time you’d try to help and you’d ruin whatever I was making, but it was fine because we’d just order Panda Hut and sit on the floor watching Twilight Zone marathons. And I saw Octavia letting you further and further into her life, and I stopped warning her against it. Especially after you started inviting us to your Mom’s for holiday dinners.” He paused, taking what appeared to be his first real breath since he’d begun. “Did you know I didn’t want to go to that first Thanksgiving? I told O that we’d have to dress up and go sit at some stuffy table in a mansion for a couple hours of forced conversation and dry turkey while your Mom judged us because we weren’t good enough. But then you made us get there like six hours early and answered the door with flour in your hair. Your Mom taught Octavia how to make your Grandma’s stuffing and you and I spent like an hour and a half trying to scoop the insides out of a pumpkin so you could make a pie. I’ll still never understand how you can make pies from scratch but can’t manage to boil pasta correctly, by the way.”

Clarke just raised an eyebrow at him, knowing his drunk rant wasn’t over.

“That kind of shit, Clarke…it makes you think someone is going to be around forever. We’d…” He stopped, frowning before he corrected himself. “ _Octavia_ had never had that, Clarke. And then she started going to _you_ for things she used to only come to me for: advice about school, help with big decisions…she started going to you. And, I’m not going to lie, it hurt a little at first. But then I realized that it was okay because it was _you._ You were family. You’d help her. And lord knows, you were 100 times smarter than I ever was.”

Clarke started shaking her head in protest. “Bell…”

He kept going over her. “Against all our better judgements, we let you into our family. And then the _minute_ things got bad for you, you disappeared.”

Clarke had been trying to keep the tears at bay for most of his speech, but now a spark of anger found its way through. “Bellamy, things got a little more than ‘bad’ for me.”

He stepped even closer to her, seemingly not realizing that they were already within each other’s personal space. “I know, Clarke. And Octavia and I were _heartbroken_ for you. All we wanted to do was help you. You’d been there so many times for us, and we wanted to be there for you.”

“I didn’t WANT you to be there for me!” Clarke practically shouted.

He looked perhaps the saddest she’d ever seen him. “Why?”

She looked away, not ready to answer the question or even think about it, really.

After standing there, watching her for what seemed like an eternity, he finally took a step back.

Her gaze found his again. She was almost surprised that there seemed to be little anger there; it was mostly hurt.

“Maybe someday you’ll be ready to tell me, Clarke,” he said sadly, taking a few steps backward before turning on his heel and walking down the street in the direction of his apartment.

Clarke stood there, the chilly night air finally registering as she realized how truly alone she was in this moment. She felt herself shivering, but she honestly wasn’t sure if it was due to the cool temperature or the fact that she’d hurt someone she cared about even worse than she’d previously thought and their relationship seemed irreparable.

She startled when a voice came from the alleyway just around the corner.        

“You know that was a load of horseshit, right?”

Clarke frowned, turning around to find Murphy emerging from the shadows, tossing a cigarette butt into the street. “Were you standing there the whole time??”

He just shrugged.

“Asshole.” Clarke muttered.

“You say this like it surprises you.”

“It really doesn’t.” She rolled her eyes, sitting on the curb. “Why do you always show up at the worst times?”

He sank down beside her. “Just luck, I guess.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Yeah. My horrible luck.”

They sat like that for a moment in silence.

She finally raised her head slightly, turning to look at him. “I didn’t mean…” She sighed. “You know how grateful I am for what you did for me.”

He nodded, still facing the street. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

Clarke frowned as Murphy’s earlier words came back to her. “What did you mean earlier? You think Bellamy was making that stuff up?”

He finally glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “No, not exactly.”

“Then what?”

Murphy pulled another cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, taking his time before answering. “You know, he used to ask me about you all the time?”

Clarke’s breath hitched. “When?”

“When you first went off the deep end and got involved with Lexa and the rest of the crew. He was pissed…they all were…but he’d still ask me if you were okay. It took a lot for him to do it, but he was worried about you.”

Clarke just stared at Murphy, trying to process the information.

Murphy worked for the same construction company Bellamy did and though they’d often butted heads in the past, even coming to blows once or twice, they’d reached some sort of truce a couple years ago. Murphy wasn’t exactly invited to game night, but he wasn’t ignored when they saw him in public anymore either.

Clarke had never particularly cared for him, but he’d proven that he wasn’t quite as despicable as she’d once thought.

“So, if I went off the deep end when I got involved with Lexa and the crew, what does that make you?” She asked wryly.

He smirked. “It makes me someone who likes to have fun and occasionally use drugs recreationally.”

There was another pause as they both let that sink in and came to the next logical step.

“You weren’t there to have fun, Clarke.”

“No. I wasn’t.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Clarke asked, “How’s Emori?”

“She’s fine.”

“She was nice to me.” Clarke said, referring to Murphy’s on-again off-again something. “Well…not exactly nice…”

Murphy snorted.

“But really though. She took care of me, certainly more than anyone else did. She dragged me into the kitchen and made me eat more times than I can even remember.” Clarke plucked at a stray thread on her jeans. “Lexa couldn’t even bother to do that.”

Murphy nodded, unsurprised. “We’ve been distancing ourselves a little,” he said quietly.

Clarke looked at him in surprise. “From Lexa?”

He nodded.

“That’s…that’s really great, Murphy. I hope you and Emori both get out. It’s not…It’s not a good place. You both deserve better.”

They returned to their natural silence, watching the occasional car drive past on the mostly deserted street in front of them.

“Are you going to go after him?” Murphy asked after a few long minutes.

Clarke sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s not ready to forgive me. I hurt Octavia too badly.”

Murphy snorted.

Clarke’s head pivoted to look at him. “What?”

“You hurt _Octavia_ too badly?”

Nodding, Clarke kept watching him warily, not sure what his tone was implying. “You heard him,” she reminded him.

“Yeah. I did,” he replied coyly.

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her windblown hair. “I’m not in the mood for games, Murphy. Just spit it out.”

He flicked his cigarette out into the street, then stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “Did you hear all that shit he was saying? Really hear it?”

Frowning, Clarke thought back to a few minutes ago. “Of course I did.”

“He was using the wrong pronoun.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Now it was Murphy’s turn to sigh as he glanced away, uncomfortable with what he was about to reveal. “I know what it’s like to grow up on your own too. Trusting anyone leaves you vulnerable and you learn real quick it’s not worth it.” He looked back at her. “All that shit he was saying wasn’t just about Octavia. You realize that, right?”

Clarke’s eyes widened as she realized his implication. “But he and I weren’t…” She frowned as she thought about it. “We weren’t really even that close… Octavia was my best friend…”

Murphy prodded. “And what was Bellamy?”

Clarke thought back, visions of the past six years playing in her head like a slideshow. Of course she’d only been close with Octavia in the beginning, but before long, it had been the three of them; eating take-out on his living room floor, rock climbing at the rec center, camping by the lake on the weekends…it had been the three of them. The older they got, Clarke realized that more and more often, it had been just her and Bellamy. Octavia had gotten busier and started dating more often, and it had just seemed natural to still hang out with Bellamy, even when Octavia wasn’t there.

Baseball games in the dead of summer, pints of beer at the English pub near the river, baking Christmas cookies and ending up covered in flour and food coloring…they were some of the best memories she had, and they only involved Bellamy.

He’d become the most important person in her life and she hadn’t even realized it. Or…she had, but it was somehow easier to keep thinking of him as Octavia’s older brother.

Why, she wasn’t sure.

She abruptly stood. “I need to go.”

Murphy smirked. “Thought you might.”


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke stood in the parking lot of Bellamy’s building, unsure of how to proceed now.

She could text or call him, but given how they’d left things, he probably wouldn’t answer. She could call Raven and ask her to come let her in the adjoining building and then walk through the courtyard to Bellamy’s building, but she really didn’t want to see anyone else right now. Her only other option was to hope someone else came out of the building soon so she could catch the door.

She stood in the parking lot for a few minutes, replaying everything he’d said to her earlier and seeing it in a whole new light. Truth be told, she was seeing everything in an entirely new light and she wondered how it had taken her so long.

Just as she was wondering if Bellamy even realized why he was so angry with her, the door to his building opened and a middle-aged man walking a golden retriever stepped out.

Clarke gave him a smile, hoping to indicate she wasn’t up to anything nefarious, and walked quickly to catch the door before it swung shut.

By the time she walked inside, rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, and reached a door that had once always been open to her but she hadn’t passed through in almost a year, she’d worried herself into being nervous.

What if he didn’t want to listen? What if she (and Murphy) were totally off base and this really was about Octavia? What if she made a fool of herself?

Deciding that any of those things couldn’t be worse than their current lack of a relationship, Clarke shifted the bags she was carrying to her left hand, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door of apartment 603.

After a minute or two, the door slowly opened.

Bellamy had apparently changed since he’d gotten home, now wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, which were riding low on his hips.

At first, he’d looked surprised to see her outside his door, but by the time her eyes had unconsciously wandered down his torso and then back up to his face, he looked pissed again.

“What are you doing here?” His brow furrowed even more. “How did you even get in here?”

“Waited for a guy with a golden retriever to go out.”

“That’s illegal.”

One side of Clarke’s mouth lifted involuntarily. “Pretty sure it’s not.”

He huffed. “Well it should be.”

She smiled. “Bell…I need to talk to you.”

Looking at the wall behind her, he rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure we already said everything down at the bar.”

“I don’t think we did.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Please?”

Sighing, he stepped back, letting her inside before shutting the door behind her. “Wait here,” he said, walking into his bedroom.

Clarke had barely set the bags on his counter when he came walking back out, pulling a plain blue t-shirt over his head, messing his unruly curls up even more.

He leaned up against the side of the counter that separated his living room from his kitchen, crossed his arms, and gave her an expectant look. “So talk.”

Unsure of where to begin, she stood there for a minute. She had so many things to say, she wasn’t sure what should come first or how to get him to listen to her.

“Clarke…” he started, losing patience.

“Just hold on.” Glancing at the bags on the counter beside him, she quickly pulled out what was inside.

Setting a giant take-out box of dumplings beside two Hostess pies, she turned to him, watching his reaction.

He scoffed. “What? You think you can fix everything with Panda Hut and some gas station pies?”

“No.” She stepped closer to him. “It was probably stupid, but I was hoping…I don’t know. I guess I was hoping it would be a peace offering…that it would remind you of…”

He continued frowning, apparently unimpressed.

“I was thinking about all those things you said to me. All those ways that Octavia and I became family.”

“…and?”

“But Bellamy, almost all those things you mentioned…it wasn’t just me and Octavia. You were there too. And I’m not even sure when it happened, but somewhere in-between you yelling at me for buying your sister dinner on my meal plan and me going on a ten-mile hike with you when you found out Octavia was dating someone older than you…you and I became family too. I’m really not sure why I never realized it, but I’m pretty sure you became my best friend. Probably even more so than Octavia. And you know how she started coming to me for advice? Well, I started going to you. There was no one I trusted more on this Earth. And…” She looked away for the first time. “…if you had abandoned me like I did you...I’m not sure how I would have handled that...I’m not sure if I _could_ have handled that. So, I need to tell you I’m sorry again. But not for hurting Octavia. I’m sorry for hurting _you._ ”

He was avoiding catching her eye on purpose. “Don’t be ridiculous, Clarke. This isn’t about me.”

She softened her tone. “Do you know how many times I picked up the phone to text you?”

His eyes flicked back to hers, surprised.

She smiled. “Most of the time it was about something stupid: there was a Star Trek marathon on TV or I’d run into that douchebag that kept trying to get me to go out with him senior year…”

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at that memory. After months of incessant harassment, Bellamy had pretended to be her boyfriend and threatened to kick the guy into next week if he didn’t leave Clarke alone.

“ _So_ many things made me think of you. And I wanted to text you so many times, but then I realized I couldn’t. Sometimes I would get so sad..or so goddamn angry…and everything in me wanted to talk to you. But I couldn’t, because I’d pushed you away.” By the time she was done speaking, her voice was barely a whisper.

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment before he responded in a tone just as soft as hers. “You still could have, you know.”

Clarke’s breath hitched in her throat. “Don’t kill him or anything…but Murphy told me you used to ask about me.”

“When did he tell you that?” Bellamy didn’t even look that surprised.

“About 15 minutes ago.”

Bellamy nodded. “It’s not a secret I was worried about you.”

“I know.” Clarke messed with the zipper on her jacket. “But did he tell you I asked about you too?” She felt Bellamy’s gaze on her and looked up to meet it.

“You did?” This time, he did seem surprised.

She nodded. “Of course I did. He told me when you got promoted to foreman on the construction crew. Acted like he was pissed about it, but I could tell he really wasn’t. He respects you. And, Lord knows, he certainly doesn’t want that much responsibility.” She bit her lip. “He also told me about the party Octavia threw for you when you got the promotion. I wanted to come so badly…it didn’t even occur to me that I couldn’t. It was just so ingrained in me to be there for all the important stuff in your life…” She looked away, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I’d already gone out and got you presents before I realized I couldn’t go.”

He was watching her carefully, and for some reason, she felt like they were on a precipice, and whatever was said next determined which way they fell. “What did you get me?”

“What?”

“The presents--what did you get me?” he asked softly.

Clarke was pretty sure it was the most important question he’d ever asked her for some reason.

“Tickets to a Grounders game…” she said, referring to their local baseball team. “…and a pink hammer that’s covered in rhinestones.”

He snorted at the same time he reached for her.

She grabbed onto his arm, using it to pull him closer.

They ended up wrapped in a crushing hug standing beside his kitchen counter, and neither of them seemed inclined to leave it.

Clarke couldn’t really tell whether she was laughing or crying, honestly it was probably a little of both, and she swore she heard a sniffle or two from Bellamy, whose face was buried in her hair. “It was the hammer that did it, right?” she asked facetiously.

She felt his low chuckle rumble through his chest. “It was definitely the hammer.”

“I can go get it right now, if you want.”

His arms tightened around her even more and his hand fisted in the hair at the nape of her neck. “Don’t you dare.”

She smiled, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath. “Thank God.”

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but her left foot was well on the way to dreamland when Bellamy finally cleared his throat and loosened his grip on her a little, moving back slowly, almost reluctantly.

“We shouldn’t let those dumplings go to waste, right?” he asked sheepishly.

“Definitely not,” she replied, wiping her eyes as discretely as possible.

He nodded, motioning for her to have a seat in the living room while he walked into the kitchen.

Clarke took a moment to glance around, noticing that everything was pretty much exactly the same as when she’d last been here a year ago. A sudden thought occurred to her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. “Oh. Shit. I didn’t even ask…is Gina here? Or is she coming over? I can…” she gestured to the doorway.

Bellamy waved his hand, acting as if the question was a silly one. He came into the living room juggling the box of dumplings, two sets of chopsticks, and two beer bottles. “Nah.”

“Are you sure? She might think it’s weird if she stops by…” Clarke glanced at her watch. “…at 1 am and finds me here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, completely unconcerned.

“Oookay,” she replied, sitting down on the floor in-between the couch and the coffee table.

Bellamy sat one of the bottles down in front of her, then paused.

She glanced up, wondering why he wasn’t joining her, and found him staring down at her with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” She asked.

He shook his head, as if to help clear it. “Nothing. I just…” he lowered himself to the floor beside her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you sitting there.”

Clarke smiled, thinking back to the hundreds of times she’d eaten dinner in this exact spot.

Bellamy’s apartment had a designated eating area, the stools at the counter in-between the living room and the kitchen, but they’d always ended up eating around the coffee table, usually because they were marathoning something on TV or else because it was just somehow more natural.

“Well, you better get used to it again. Because my ass isn’t leaving this exact spot.”

He smirked, handing her a pair of chopsticks. “You sure about that? Might get numb after a while.”

She tapped the ends of her chopsticks on the table, evening them out so she could use them. “Okay. I’ll alternate between the floor and the couch. Better?”

“Much better,” he replied, taking the lid off the box of dumplings and setting it on the table in front of them.

They put on the TV, flipping through until they found the channel that showed classic sitcoms, although they left the volume low, preferring to chat about everything and nothing, occasionally glancing up when Jack would fall over the sofa or Chrissy would end up handcuffed to a stranger at the Regal Beagle.

They talked about her new job at the hospital, his new job as a construction foreman, and how Octavia and Lincoln were doing on the other side of the country. As if by some unspoken truce, they both refrained from bringing up anything from their year apart.

They’d plowed through most of the box of dumplings and another beer each by the time Clarke’s eyes started getting heavy.

She was currently leaning up against Bellamy’s side. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and was softly running his fingers up and down her upper arm.

At some point, the soft timbre of his voice had started lulling her to sleep.

She woke to him gently shaking her arm. “Hmm?”

“Go take my bed,” he said softly.

She blinked quickly, trying to shake the sleep from her eyes.  “No.”

“Clarke…”

“No,” she said stubbornly, not ready for tonight to be over yet. “I’m awake, I swear.”

He sighed, although it was obvious he was also trying not to smile. “Fine. Then can we move to the couch? Because now _my ass_ is asleep.”

They both scooted up onto the sofa, and once he got comfortable, she again leaned against him.

He smiled, putting his arm in place around her again. “You sure you don’t want to take my bed?”

“No. I’m watching this.” She gestured to the TV, where Gilligan was trying, for the 732nd time, to get off the island.

“You are not.”

“Am so. Gilligan is trying to get off the island. The Skipper just yelled at him.”

“Clarke…” he laughed, shaking his head. “That is literally the plot to _every_ episode.”

“Yeah, including this one.” She smiled up at him cheekily.

“Okay, fine. Was the Professor flirting with Ginger or Mary-Ann?”

She narrowed her eyes, as if contemplating her answer. “Trick question. He was flirting with both of them.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Dammit.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both still pretending to watch the TV.

After a few minutes, he asked softly, “Are you ever going to talk to me about what happened?”

She sighed against his shirt before leaning back to look at him. “Yes. I promise I’ll tell you everything, but…not yet…okay? This…” She gestured between the two of them as tears came, unbidden, to her eyes. “…this has been a lot.”

He gathered her close, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her against his chest. “When you’re ready, okay? I just…” His hand ran up and down her spine, as if to soothe her. “…are you okay now? Are you doing better?”

Clarke realized she was practically sobbing into his neck, so it seemed sort of ironic when she leaned back a little to look at him and say, “I can honestly say…this…right now…is the best I’ve been in a year.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Cause…” He took her face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

She nodded, trying to see through her tears. “Yes. And shut up.”

“Okay,” he said simply, pulling her back against his chest.

It wasn’t until a few moments later when she realized that he was the one comforting her, when it should be the other way around.

“Bellamy…why are you being so nice to me? I’m the one that’s supposed to be apologizing to you,” she mumbled against his shirt.

“So?” He continued rubbing her back.

“Stop it! Stop being so good to me! I don’t deserve it!” Too many months of emotional upheaval were combining with too much alcohol and too little sleep and making her way more emotional than normal. She seemed to realize it, but she couldn’t stop it.

“Clarke, it’s okay,” he said soothingly.

“It’s not. None of this is okay. I’m sorry, Bell. I’m so so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, not even realizing she’d crawled halfway into his lap as she burrowed her face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

Bellamy seemed to be saying something, but Clarke didn’t even hear him.

“I had a bunch of selfish, stupid reasons for doing it that made sense to me at the time…but leaving you sort of broke my heart. I can’t even imagine…” She kissed the only part of him she could reach, which was his neck. “I’m sorry, Bellamy.”

A shiver worked its way through him. “Clarke…you’re back now, right?”

“Yes.” She paused for a minute, nose still pressed into his neck. “YES,” she repeated more definitively.

“Then that’s all that matters. We’ll figure the rest out later, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She nodded, loosening her grip on his neck and moving back to his side, although she left one of her knees resting on his thigh, since it let her curl tighter against him.

His hand, now running soothingly through her hair, started lulling her back to sleep.

“Do you want to…”

“No,” she interrupted, assuming that he was going to ask if she was ready to take his bed yet.

They sat there in a sleepy silence for a moment.

“You can go ahead in if you want. I can sleep out here,” she suggested.

“No,” he responded quickly. He leaned to the side, grabbing a folded blanket off the arm of the couch. Shaking it out, he covered them both, then tucked her more firmly against his side.

Completely content, she brushed her cheek against his chest in an almost feline manner. “I missed you,” she said drowsily.

He waited until her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him before responding quietly. “I missed you too,” he said, kissing the top of her head.


	5. Chapter 5

Clarke stirred, opening her eyes a tiny bit to see a wall of blue in front of her. Blinking blearily, she tilted her head back a few inches, simultaneously realizing that the wall of blue was Bellamy’s chest and that he had been trying to wake her, rubbing her back and saying her name softly.

“Hmm?” She asked, disoriented.

“You have to work at 9, right?”

“Oh. Shit!” She started scrambling, trying to get up, which unfortunately made her slightly hungover brain seem to slosh around a little.

He held her more firmly against him. “Calm down. It’s 7:30.”

“Oh.” She leaned back, resting her head on his arm, which was curled under her. As last night came flooding back, she also realized exactly where she was. Apparently, she and Bellamy had both fallen asleep on the couch. At some point, they’d readjusted so they were laying down. They were both currently on their sides, facing each other, his left arm under her neck and his right arm banded around her waist. Clarke wasn’t sure if she’d gotten cold in the middle of the night, or if she’d just been seeking comfort, but she’d apparently burrowed into his chest as much as possible. It was also worth noting that their legs were tangled together.

Clarke wasn’t sure if she should feel uncomfortable with this new physical proximity or not, but honestly, she just kind of never wanted to move.

She frowned as she realized what he’d just said. “Why are you up? You’re off today, right?” Although he sometimes had to work Saturdays when they were behind on projects, she knew he’d mentioned being off today last night at the bar.

“Yeah. I set my alarm though so I could wake you. Didn’t want you to be late for work.”

She smiled, pressing her nose against his chest. “You’re the best.”

“Mmhmm,” he muttered against her hair, his hand still rubbing her back. She was pretty sure it was unconscious, at this point.

Reluctantly, she started to disentangle herself from his arms. “Go back to sleep. I have to get going if I’m going to make it all the way out to my mom’s and back before my shift starts.”

“Do you have to?” he asked, sitting up and watching as she did the same beside him.

“Do I have to what?”     

“Go all the way to your mom’s before work.”

“Oh.” She frowned, contemplating. “Well, I guess I don’t _have_ to. I’d rather not use the showers at the hospital though. They’re kind of gross and the water pressure sucks. I tend to save them for emergencies.” She stood up, grimacing as she realized her skinny jeans had apparently left permanent indentations in her stomach. Turning the top down a little, she glared at the angry red mark left by the button. “Please remind me never to sleep in jeans again. I’m pretty sure that’s never going to go away.”

Grabbing her phone off the coffee table, she winced when she saw the time. “I need to get going. I’ll…”

“Stay here,” he interrupted quietly.

She stopped just as she was stepping over his feet. “What?”

“If a shower is the only reason you’re driving all the way out of the city, then just stay here and use mine.”

“Bell, you don’t have to…”

“What? Offer up my totally unoccupied shower? Yeah, it’s such a hardship for me, Princess,” he said, rolling his eyes.

As the long-forgotten nickname slipped out, he looked appalled while she looked ecstatic.

“You called me Princess,” she said, as if in wonder.

He winced. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from…”

“No! I like it!”

He raised an eyebrow.

The nickname was one he used to use in derision, back when he thought she was a spoiled brat. Once he’d learned his assessment of her was wrong, he’d tried to stop using it, but it had still slipped out on occasion, typically when he wasn’t thinking.

The way he’d said it just now…it almost sounded like a term of endearment.

When she realized he was still waiting for an explanation, she blushed slightly. “I just…it felt like us again, you know?”

He looked up at her, his face soft but unreadable. “Yeah.”

Clarke glanced away.

“Anyway. Do you have an extra change of clothes or…?” he asked.

“Yeah. I keep a spare pair of scrubs in my backpack. It’s down in my car. I can go get them if you’re sure you don’t mind lending me your bathroom.”

He stood up, waving her off. “Go ahead. There are clean towels in the closet. Use whatever you need.” He slipped into a pair of sandals that were sitting beside the front door. “Give me your keys. I’ll leave your backpack outside the bathroom door.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You sure? I can go…”

He wordlessly held out his hand.

She grabbed her keys from his counter, where they’d been left beside the empty take out bag. Walking over to place them in his outstretched hand, she also stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the actual best.”

He nodded, clearing his throat self-consciously as he turned to leave.

 

* * *

 

 

A half hour later, Clarke opened the bathroom door, walking through Bellamy’s empty bedroom and into the living room.

She’d found almost everything she needed in his bathroom, and everything else had been waiting for her in her backpack outside the bathroom door as soon as she’d gotten out of the shower.

Now, in clean scrubs, tennis shoes, and with her hair, which she hadn’t bothered to wash, in a braid, she sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, placing her backpack on the floor behind her. Finding a cold bottle of water already on the placemat in front of her, she grabbed it and drank half of it without even thinking.

Bellamy turned around briefly, taking in her change in appearance, and then turned back toward the stove. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks again for…” She paused when he turned around again, setting a plate in front of her. “What is all this??”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does it look like?” He went to the other counter, grabbing the blender and splitting the contents between two small glasses before setting one next to her plate.      

She stared at the plate for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his. “It _looks_ like Hangover Breakfast.”

One side of his mouth lifted in that trademark smirk. “I was starting to worry there for a minute,” he mocked, taking a sip of his smoothie.

Clarke stared down at the food and drinks in front of her, a little dumbfounded.

_The first time Bellamy had picked her and Octavia up from a bar, at the tender age of 18, they’d both been too drunk to take back to the dorms, which had a zero tolerance policy for underage drinking and an RA that practically carried around a breathalyzer and write-up sheets to turn in to the disciplinary committee._

_Bellamy had driven them back to his apartment and spent most of the night holding their hair while they got very well acquainted with the inside of his toilet. When he wasn’t on vomit duty, he’d been practically force feeding them water._

_By the time they both rolled out of bed the next morning, with stomachs still queasy and the room still spinning, they both knew they were in for the mother of all lectures._

_They didn’t even bother speaking to each other…not that they were even capable of it. After taking turns in the bathroom, they reluctantly marched out into the living room, where even the overhead lights were painful to their sand-filled eyes and throbbing heads._

_Bellamy had his back to them, apparently making something on the stove. He didn’t even turn around when he heard them come out._

_Octavia and Clarke glanced at each other, eyebrows raised._

_“Bell…I’m sor…” Octavia’s apology was cut short by her brother, who waved his hand dismissively._

_“Not now. I really don’t want to clean up any more puke.” He walked to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water and plunking them on the breakfast bar. He motioned to the seats across the counter from him. “Sit. Drink.”_

_They both sat, then stared reluctantly at the bottles in front of them._

_“I don’t think I can,” Clarke muttered._

_She’d had a few drinks before, at high school parties, but she’d never consumed half of a college bar’s liquor shelf before, and from Octavia’s matching response beside her, she guessed she wasn’t the only one experiencing her first truly awful hangover._

_Bellamy turned around, rolling his eyes. “You can. And you will, unless you want to spend the entire day puking and generally feeling like the world is going to end.”_

_They both looked at him in disbelief._

_He laughed. “Seriously. This feeling you’re feeling right now? Your brain sloshing around in your head…the pounding headache…the room spinning like a carnival ride…your stomach turning over every three seconds, especially if you move. It’s going to last all day. Hell, as much as you two apparently had last night, it might even last into tomorrow.”_

_His speech was met with groans._

_“You’re dehydrated. The alcohol flushes all the water out of your system.” His tone softened a bit as he looked at them with a tiny bit of pity. “I know it seems counterintuitive right now, but water will make you feel better. Just keep drinking and you’ll start to feel halfway human again.” He waited while the girls eyed their bottles warily. “Trust me?”_

_With matching sighs, the girls both lifted the bottles to their lips._

_A few minutes later, Bellamy walked over to the blender, cutting up bananas, tossing them in, and then filling it with milk. He looked at the girls. “Might want to plug your ears,” he said just as he flipped the switch._

_Both girls winced at the noise, which seemed to be equal in volume to that of a jumbo jet._

_After a minute or two of blending, Bellamy split the concoction between two glasses, setting one in front of each of them. Then, he turned back to the stove, putting food on plates and also setting those in front of the girls._

_They eyed their plates and glasses dubiously before glancing at each other, then at Bellamy._

_“You’re trying to kill us, right? This is our punishment for last night?” Octavia practically croaked._

_He snorted. “No. I really should have thought of that, though,” he said cheekily, taking a sip from his coffee mug._

_Clarke looked down at her plate again. “So…eggs, bacon, and some sort of banana…something…are supposed to cure our hangovers?”_

_“Cure? Probably not. Help? Yes.”_

_Clarke engaged in a stare-off with him until her eyes finally couldn’t take it anymore. Sighing, she picked up her fork, cut off a piece of fried egg, and put it in her mouth._

_She’d gotten through half of her breakfast before Octavia would even try hers._

_“Seriously. How did you figure this out?” Clarke asked, gesturing to the food and drink in front of her._

_Bellamy smirked. “Miller and I had a few too many nights like the one you guys had last night when we were your age. One morning, his dad found us passed out on the lawn chairs in their backyard, sick as dogs. He poured water down our throats and then made us eat bacon and eggs. Told us that if we were old enough to drink like men, then we were old enough to work the next day. Something he learned when he was in the army, apparently.” Bellamy smiled, almost fondly. “He made us lay paving stones in their driveway about an hour later. Bastard,” he chuckled._

_“And the banana thing?” Octavia asked._

_Bellamy shoveled some food off his own plate into his mouth. “Honestly? Went through the Sheetz drive thru one morning on my way to work when I was hungover. Ordered an iced coffee, didn’t even realize they’d given me some sort of banana milkshake or smoothie or whatever until I was already out of the parking lot. Drank it anyway. Realized about 20 minutes later that I was no longer contemplating suicide by nail gun, so it got added to the roster.” He pointed his fork in their direction across the counter. “And see? You two get to profit from my trials and errors.”_

_“Were there errors?” Clarke asked, only somewhat evilly._

_Bellamy ignored her tone. “Oh, God. So many errors.” He grabbed their empty plates, added them to his, and set them in the sink._

_Octavia sighed, taking another swig from her almost empty water bottle. “Okay, my head doesn’t have an entire drum line marching through it anymore…maybe just a symbol player or two. So, go ahead. Let me have it.”_

_Bellamy turned toward them, leaning his back against the counter opposite them and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to yell at you.”_

_Octavia’s eyebrows rose. Truth be told, Clarke’s did, as well._

_“Huh?” Octavia asked, pretty much dumbfounded._

_“I was going to. Oh, trust me, I was going to after all that bullshit last night. But then I realized that I don’t have much room to talk. See: Me and Miller passed out on lawn chairs at 7 am.” He ran his hand through his hair, somewhat nervously. “Listen, I might not like it, but I get it. You’re 18, living on your own for the first time. You’re in college. You’re going to go get hammered, it’s pretty much a requirement, right? And if I try to tell you you’re not allowed or read you the riot act over it, you’re just going to stop coming to me, right? And I don’t want that. I want you to always, always feel like you can call me. If you’ve been drinking and you need a ride, or a place to stay…or if you’re at a bar or a frat party or whatever and you don’t feel safe…just…anytime you need me…you call. Okay?” His eyes fluttered nervously toward Clarke. “That goes for both of you.”_

_Clarke could only raise her eyebrows again, completely stunned to be included in that offer._

_Bellamy continued, “But I do want you to do something for me.”_

_Both girls waited expectantly._

_“Any time you’re going to have more than a drink or two…always make sure you’re with someone you trust.”_

_Octavia’s brow furrowed. “Bell…”_

_He held up a hand. “I’m serious, Octavia. You’re both young, pretty, and, frankly, you wear too little.” He gestured sort of uncomfortably toward Clarke’s cleavage, which wasn’t indecent, but was sort of hard to ignore in her low-cut V-neck from last night._

_Clarke had her mouth open, ready to argue, but Bellamy was already prepared._

_“I know, I know. Women’s rights, equality, dressing provocatively isn’t an excuse for unwanted sexual advances. I agree wholeheartedly. But let me just let you in on a little secret...” He paused, as if to build suspense. “…guys are dicks.”_

_Both girls snorted, in spite of themselves._

_“No. Really. We are. And some guys are just your average run of the mill assholes. They’ll hit on you, try to get you to go back to their place. And if you say no, they’ll probably leave you alone. But there are a few guys out there…they won’t leave you alone. And if you’ve had too much to drink and you’re alone…or if you’re with someone who doesn’t give a shit about you…I don’t want to think about where you could end up.”_

_Octavia just nodded, sort of mesmerized by his speech._

_“So, please, for the love of all things holy, stick together. Or with Jasper and Monty,” he said, referring to Octavia’s high school friends who’d also become Clarke’s friends. “They’re idiots…but they’re good guys.” He frowned. “Or me and Miller. But I have no idea why you’d ever be at a bar with me or Miller.” He shook his head as if to clear that thought._

_Clarke had her head tilted slightly to the side, contemplating his advice. “So…if we’re not in complete control of ourselves…make sure we’re with someone we trust enough to make decisions for us.”_

_His eyes darted to hers in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”_

_Octavia nodded. “I promise.”_

_“Me too,” Clarke said softly._

_Getting up, Octavia headed for Bellamy’s bedroom. “Bell, is it okay if I lay back down? I think a nap might make me almost human again.”_

_He chuckled. “Knock yourself out.”_

_Octavia paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Coming, Clarke?”_

_Clarke gingerly shook her head. “No, I’m not really that tired right now. Go ahead.”_

_Octavia nodded, hiding a yawn behind her hand. “Don’t kill each other,” she said off-hand, shutting the door behind her._

_Clarke picked up her empty glass, slowly making her way over to the sink to rinse it out._

_By the time she turned around, Bellamy had finished cleaning up their trash and was wiping his hands on a dish towel._

_Resting her hands on the sink behind her, Clarke broached the subject quietly. “Did you…mean what you said?”_

_He turned toward her but kept his distance. “About what?”_

_“Me calling you if I ever need you.”_

_He frowned slightly. “Yeah. Of course I did.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why, what?”_

_“Why would you offer to do that for me? You hate me.”_

_He sighed, setting the dishtowel on the counter. “I don’t hate you, Clarke.”_

_Her eyebrows rose so high, it was a wonder you could still differentiate them from her hair._

_“I think…we got off on the wrong foot. And that was partially my fault. Listen, you’re probably never going to be my favorite person, but I meant what I said, okay? I’d never want you to not be safe.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck nervously. “You’re important to my sister, so you’re important to me, okay?”_

_With that, he turned on his heel and walked into the living room, putting the television on low and sitting down on the far side of the couch. “How do you feel about Bewitched?”_

_Blinking rapidly at the about face, Clarke tried to catch up. She made her way to the couch, sitting down on the other side. “Dick York or Dick Sargant?”_

_He just smiled, clearly pleasantly surprised._

_Clarke got comfortable, pulling a blanket over herself and then hugging a spare pillow against her still slightly queasy stomach._

_She waited a few minutes before speaking softly. “Hey, Bellamy?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“…thanks for caring.”_

Clarke snapped out of the memory abruptly. Hangover Breakfast had become a tradition after that, and although he waited until they were both 21 to join them, eventually he needed the breakfast with them more often than not.

“You didn’t have to do all this…” Clarke said, still not really sure what she’d done to deserve it.

He shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with the attention. “I couldn’t have you hungover all day at the hospital. Pretty sure that’s not a good look for a doctor, Clarke.”

She knew he was trying to play this off with humor, like he always did. “But I didn’t even have that much to drink. Why…”

He sighed, setting his glass down on the counter with more force than strictly necessary. “It just felt like us again, okay?”

Clarke smiled slowly.

Before it even registered what she was doing, she was out of her chair and in the kitchen with Bellamy. Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“Thanks for caring,” she said softly.

His arms banded tightly around her waist. “You’re important to me,” he replied, even softer.   


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke got out of her car, pulling her phone out of her coat pocket as she did so. She sent Raven a quick text letting her know she was in the parking lot as she waited for Bryan to finish parking and get out of his car.

Raven had texted her a few days ago about having another game night, and Clarke had agreed and then quickly asked if Miller would be attending. Raven had laughed, said yes, and then instructed Clarke to bring “Doctor McDreamy” before Clarke could even broach the subject herself.

So, after checking everyone’s schedules and going back and forth on whether they wanted sausage on their pizzas or not, here Clarke was, Bryan in tow.

Jasper suddenly flung open the door, standing inside and holding it open. “Come on, party people!”

After giving Bryan a sympathetic look, Clarke brushed past Jasper. “We’re not party people. We’re game people. Duh.”

Jasper just scoffed. “Pfft. Semantics, Clarke.”

After an elevator ride that seemed to last forever, in which Jasper kept asking Bryan if a prostate exam was as horrible as he’d imagined, they finally arrived at the fourth floor. Clarke, who’d been trying her damndest not to snicker, stepped out of the elevator but then paused, turning back toward Jasper.

“I think the real question here is…which is worse? A prostate exam or a pap smear? Although, honestly, I’d assume both pale in comparison to…you know…child birth.”

Bryan barked out a laugh, following Clarke down the hallway, while Jasper remained glued to the spot in the elevator, eyes wide and shocked into silence for once.

Clarke was fairly sure the elevator door started to close on him, if the resulting yelp and ding were any indication.

Still chuckling, she opened Raven’s door and walked inside.

“Griffin!” Raven shouted from where she was standing near the balcony doors.

Monty and Miller gave less ear-splitting, although still enthusiastic, greetings from the living room.

Just then, Bellamy stepped out of the kitchen. A somewhat shy smile crossed his face when he came face to face with her.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” she responded, returning his smile.

“I see you brought McDreamy back! I guess we didn’t scare him off the last time!” Raven quipped, loudly.

Her voice snapped Bellamy and Clarke out of some sort of trance, where they’d been standing about a foot apart, just smiling at each other.

Registering Raven’s words, Bellamy’s eyes darted up, over Clarke’s shoulder to the man standing behind her. Seeing Bryan, he frowned.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, but decided to deal with it later. There were more important things to worry about right now…like making sure Bryan and Miller got properly introduced.

Grabbing Bryan’s arm, she pulled him into the living room. “So, you probably remember most of these guys, right? Raven, Monty, Jasper, and Bellamy,” she said, quickly pointing everyone out again. “Oh, and this is Nathan Miller. I don’t think you got a chance to meet him last time. Miller, this is Bryan Underwood. He’s in my internship program at the hospital.”

“Nice to meet you,” Miller said, stretching a hand over the coffee table.

“You too,” Bryan responded, shaking it.

“Okay. Everybody grab a beer and pick a seat. It’s game night,” Raven said, quickly claiming her favorite spot on the oversized ottoman.

“Please tell me you didn’t let Jasper bring another game out of his parents’ basement,” Clarke asked, genuinely worried, to be honest, as she took a seat in the middle of the couch.

Raven snorted. “As if. Nope, we’re going old school tonight,” she said, pulling Monopoly out from under the coffee table.

Everyone groaned.

“No. I refuse,” Jasper said, sullenly taking a seat on the floor.

“Me too,” Monty agreed.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be such buzzkills!” Raven admonished.

Miller was glancing at Bellamy, who was still standing away from the group, over near the door to the kitchen. His gaze then flickered to Clarke. “Yeah. It’ll be fun.” Smirking, he patted the empty spot on the couch closest to where he was sitting on the floor. That spot just happened to be the one next to Clarke. “Come on, Bellamy.”

Bellamy reluctantly traipsed across the room to take the seat beside her. “Fine. Let’s play,” he said.

Clarke turned to Bryan, who was taking the seat on her other side and giving her a look that said, “What the hell?”

She just smiled, shaking her head slightly.

Bryan was the only one present who didn’t know how Bellamy and Clarke played Monopoly. Basically…it was balls to the wall, no holds barred, take no prisoners and potentially leave with no friends by the time the night was over.

They could both manage to play any other game with little to no problem. In fact, Raven was usually the most competitive of the group. But something about Monopoly turned Bellamy and Clarke into rabid dogs, both refusing to give up until they’d won.

It may have something to do with the first time they’d played Monopoly, Clarke’s freshman year of college. Bellamy had made a snide comment about Clarke being unable to play because there wasn’t a crown playing piece. Clarke had responded by calling him an asshole, which led Bellamy to make another ill-advised comment about how she surely couldn’t play as the iron, because he doubted she’d ever seen one before, let alone knew how to use one.

Clarke, of course, had immediately snatched the iron token for herself faster than Bellamy could blink.

What followed was three-and-a-half hours of vicious game play in which Octavia had to become banker part way through because Bellamy accused Clarke of cheating, Clarke had Bellamy in her sights TWICE, but he mortgaged properties and managed to stay afloat, Bellamy “tossed” the dice at Clarke a little too forcefully, leaving her with a small bump on her forehead (he apologized profusely, but Clarke couldn’t stop laughing long enough to hear him), and Clarke built an entire corner of hotels that would’ve made Conrad Hilton proud.

That game had ended with Jasper terrified, Monty asleep, and Octavia slightly worried, with Clarke having won by the narrowest of margins and leaving Bellamy outraged. When he again accused her of cheating, she’d summarily dumped the rest of her beer over his head.

Needless to say, the rest of the gang assumed Monopoly was off the table for good.

To everyone’s surprise, it was only a month or so later when Bellamy brought it to game night again.

Everyone else had immediately rejected the idea, but Clarke had only smiled, saying something along the lines of, “Ready to get your ass kicked again? So soon?”

That set the tone for the dozens of games to come.

Clarke would start off by snatching the iron before anyone else could, grinning triumphantly at Bellamy. Bellamy would roll his eyes, trying not to smile as he selected his own playing piece. Then, it was a free for all. They still battled ferociously, they still cursed and accused each other of cheating every ten minutes or so, and they still took inordinate pleasure in each other’s downfall…but at least dice and alcohol were no longer used as weapons. Occasionally, a Twizzler would end up thrown across the table…but at least those didn’t do much damage.

Clarke started this game as she had every other…by grabbing the iron and smirking at Bellamy as she did so.

Weirdly, he didn’t even make eye contact.

Clarke frowned, wondering what was wrong. After the night she’d spent on his couch last weekend, they’d fallen pretty much back to their old habits. She’d text him ridiculous memes she found on her coffee break, he’d text her when he saw something weird on TV, asking if it was medically possible, and they’d even met up for lunch at the diner beside the hospital one day when he’d been repairing some water damage at an apartment nearby. Perhaps her favorite interaction…although she’d never admit it to him…was when they’d both been watching a Twilight Zone episode in the middle of the night.

She’d texted him from her mom’s house to see if he was awake and if he was watching. He’d replied with an affirmative to both, but then gone radio silent. Clarke had shrugged, tossing her phone to the side as she became engrossed in the episode. Of course she’d seen it before…she’d seen most of them before…but there was something about this episode that never failed to freak her out.

An old woman kept receiving mysterious telephone calls in the middle of the night. Sometimes, she even heard a man speaking to her through the line. When she informed the switchboard operator of this, she was told that a storm had knocked down the telephone lines, meaning that she _couldn’t_ have been receiving calls. When the old lady swore repeatedly that she had, she was told that it was impossible, since the lines were down over a graveyard.

The episode had just finished…ending with the elderly woman going to the cemetery…and seeing the downed lines on the grave of her fiancé, who’d died decades ago. Clarke was still absorbing the ending, aimlessly watching the credits roll.

Her phone rang from beside her, sending her at least a foot off her bed.

Slapping a hand to her pounding heart, she quickly grabbed the phone, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Bellamy’s name pop up.

“Bellamy! You scared the shit out of me!” She’d answered.

He was already laughing. “I know.”

Clarke had rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “Jackass.”

“Sweet dreams, Princess!” He’d said in a sing-song voice before ending the call. 

Given all that…Clarke had thought they were okay…but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Bell…you okay?” she asked him quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oookay,” she said, taking her turn with the dice.

Twenty minutes later and Bellamy still hadn’t said a word.

Clarke had kept her mouth shut when he’d gotten the “Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect $200” card and had moved his playing piece without even a sigh. She’d managed to stay quiet when he clearly had enough money for multiple houses and hotels, but hadn’t bothered to buy a single one. But now, she’d landed on one of his properties… _Park Place_ , no less, and he hadn’t even asked for the money she owed him.

“Bellamy, what the hell?” she said, almost angrily.

He blinked exaggeratedly, turning to look at her. “What?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re not even playing! How is this any fun if you’re going to let me win??”

 Before he could answer, Raven’s phone rang.

After a few seconds on the phone, she hung up, grabbing the money they’d all handed her when they arrived and heading for the door. “Pizza’s here. I’ll be right back.”

Just after she shut the door behind her, Bryan’s phone buzzed.

Glancing at the screen, his brow furrowed. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Clarke asked.

“Kane needs me at the hospital. Apparently there’s a liver available for a patient that’s been waiting for one. It just left Boston General, so it should be here in a couple hours.” He glanced at his watch. “Kane wants me to prep the patient for surgery so he’ll be ready when it gets here.”

Clarke nodded. “This is going to be amazing, you know that, right?”

His eyes lit up, in the way that only interns can light up about the promise of major surgery. “I know.”

“And you’re going to do great. Don’t let Kane be an ass to you. You deserve to scrub in.”

He smiled ruefully. “Easier said than done.” He stood up, offering her a hand up. “Walk me out?”

She took his proffered hand, standing and then walking out into the hallway with him. He called a hurried goodbye to everyone else inside.

“What’s up?” she asked, as soon as the door shut behind her.

“I really need to get going, but I just wanted to ask you something really quick first.”

“Shoot.”

“I could be totally off-base here…but is Miller…?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Gay? You’d think you’d be more comfortable saying it by now. Yeesh,” she joked.

“Haha. Very funny. He seems like a nice guy. I didn’t want to assume anything and offend him or something.”

Clarke smiled. “He wouldn’t be offended, either way. But, yes, he is gay.”

Bryan nodded slowly. “And is he the reason you keep bringing me to these group nights?”

“Honestly? I was hoping you two would hit it off, yes. But if not, I’m totally fine with that and I still want you to hang out with my friends…as long as you want to.”

“I do. And Miller seems cool…just do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Don’t do any setting up. I’ve been forced into dates before just because someone thinks two gay guys should automatically hit it off. It’s awkward and it’s not fun.”

“Understood,” Clarke said, nodding.

“He is cute though…”

Clarke smirked. “I know.”

Bryan chuckled. “Okay. I really need to leave now or Kane will have me on bedpan duty instead of liver transplant duty.”

“Good luck!” Clarke called as he jogged down the hallway toward the elevator.

Walking back inside, Clarke immediately noticed that Bellamy was missing.

Jasper, Monty, and Miller were watching something on one of their phones, barely giving her a cursory glance when she walked back into the room.

Noticing the balcony door was partially open, Clarke stepped outside and found Bellamy leaning against the railing, staring out into the courtyard that separated Raven’s building from his.

“What are you doing out here? Raven should be back with the pizza in a second,” Clarke said, stepping up next to him.

There was no response.

She put her hand on his arm tentatively. “Bell…you’ve been acting weird all night. What’s wrong? I thought we were doing okay…”

He finally turned to look at her. “That’s when I thought you were serious about getting your life back on track and finally growing up a little.”

Clarke’s head snapped back, she was so surprised by his anger. “I AM.” She frowned. “I’m doing all that. What are you even talking about?”

Bellamy waved his hand vaguely toward the living room. “I know he seems like a nice guy now, but face it Clarke, you’ve got shit for taste when it comes to romantic partners. And I know he’s a doctor, which is a definite step up from drug dealer, but still. Didn’t you meet the douchebag in Pre-Med? I assume he’s a doctor now too.”

Clarke was frowning, thoroughly perplexed by this entire conversation. She did know one thing though; the only person Bellamy referred to as “douchebag” was Finn Collins. “Yeah, he is,” she answered absently.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh great. Tell me you keep in touch with him too now?”

“What? No. Not really. We…ran into each other a few months ago.”

“You ‘ran into’ him?”

Clarke’s eyes strayed from Bellamy’s for the first time. “Yeah. He was a year ahead of me, so he was already an intern over at General West last year. You know…where my mom works,” she said, as if that’s how she happened to see him.

Raven chose that moment to pop her head out the door. “Pizza’s here.”

Clarke turned toward her, giving her _the look_. “We’ll be in in a minute. Save us some.”

Raven glanced at Bellamy, then back at Clarke. “Got it,” she said, shutting the door after she went back inside.

Clarke turned back toward Bellamy. “Okay. Seriously. I’m going to need you to start over. Something about this conversation isn’t making a whole lot of sense. And I really have _no idea_ why you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not _mad_ , Clarke.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I’m not. I’m…disappointed.”

_“Why?”_

“I told you…I…”

Clarke cut him off. “You think my judgement is so off, I can’t even pick a decent guy to set one of my friends up with??”

Now it was Bellamy’s turn to look perplexed. “You…what?”

“You really don’t like Bryan? Cause I admit, I’ve only known him for a few months, but I’ve been with him for 16 hour stretches at a time. I’ve watched him handle some pretty awful shit at that hospital and he’s handled it all admirably. Other than some admittedly questionable taste in music, he seems like a great guy. And he and Miller are both good guys that seem to be a little unlucky in love. So, yeah, I thought I’d at least introduce them to each other. I already promised Bryan I’d stay out of it though, so if anything is going to happen, it’s up to the two of them.”

Bellamy was just staring at her.

She waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Going to yell at me some more?”

“No.” He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. “No. I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Clarke tilted her head, seeing the complete change in his demeanor. “Seriously, what was that about?”

“I…” Bellamy’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, in what Clarke immediately recognized as his nervous gesture. “Like I said, you haven’t had the best judgment of people in the past and I thought you were trying to shove this guy at Miller… I don’t know. It hasn’t been a great day. I’m sorry.”

Clarke immediately stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh…” he again turned to look out over the railing. “…I broke up with Gina.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke said sadly. “Why?”

He shrugged.

“I thought it was going well!”

“It was…okay. She was great, she really was. But, honestly, I think I was leading her on a little.”

Clarke again joined him at the rail. “What do you mean?”

He ran his hand back and forth on the wrought iron in front of him. “You know me, I’ve never been a serious relationship kind of guy.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought maybe you’d grown out of that.”

He smiled, somewhat self-deprecatingly. “You had…disappeared. Octavia had just told me she was moving across the country with Lincoln. And then I do an office remodel for these lawyers over on the West Side. This pretty girl is the secretary, and she’s always around, asking if we need anything, making sure we let her know when we’re going to be finished so the partners can schedule their meetings around us. And when she suggested we get coffee and handed me her number…I thought ‘why not?’ And it turns out, she’s kind of great. Funny, smart, decent taste in sports and music.”

Clarke waited, but he didn’t continue. “Okay?”

He sighed. “I think I just wanted… _somebody_.”

“…is that so bad?”

“Not always. But she thought we were going somewhere…and I just wanted somebody.”

“Oh.”

“It really wasn’t fair to her. Like I said, she’s great. She deserves to find somebody who wants to go…somewhere.”

“But…don’t you think you could have gotten there? If she’s as great as you said and you have so much in common…”

He finally looked at her. “Nah,” he said softly.

Clarke decided not to push. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, smiling slightly. “I’m fine. I just hope she is.”

Clarke turned, linking her arm with his and leading him toward the door. “I’m sure you’re a difficult man to get over. I can call and tell her what a dick you are, if you think that would help.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure that would be a big help to everyone. What would I ever do without you?”

She squeezed his arm a little tighter. “Luckily, you don’t have to find that out ever again.”

They sat back down on the couch, grabbing pizza and cold beers.

“Okay, where were we?” Raven asked, picking up the dice.

“Clarke was about to get her ass handed to her,” Bellamy said, tearing off a large chunk of pizza with his teeth.

Clarke rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her beer. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you tried to cheat me out of my money for Park Place. That’ll be $70, Griffin. Pay up.” He turned to Monty, who was playing Banker. “And you know what? I think now would be the perfect time to buy some houses.”

Clarke tried to hide her smile behind her beer bottle, but didn’t really succeed, so she settled for throwing a piece of pepperoni in Bellamy’s hair.


	7. Chapter 7

Clarke smiled, leaning her head against the back of Raven’s couch. They’d finished the Monopoly game around a half an hour ago, with Bellamy coming from behind to soundly trounce everyone, her included.

Oh, she’d made the appropriate huffs, cussed at the appropriate times, and even thrown a Cheeto or two at him, but really, she was giddy.

Just like the Hangover Breakfast and him accidentally calling her ‘Princess,’ this may not have seemed ‘nice’ to an outsider, but to her…it felt like them. She was pretty damn ecstatic that they were at a place again where she could confidently throw fake cheese products into his hair while calling him a jackass, positive that he’d be laughing right along with her, smiling that boyish smile from underneath that mop of messy hair that she knew so well.

After the game had ended, Raven had started tinkering with something that looked like a small circuit board while occasionally shouting advice at Monty, Jasper, and Miller, who were playing a video game on her TV.

Clarke sighed, completely content and well on the way to blissful exhaustion.

“Hey,” Bellamy said quietly, running his knuckles lightly against her forearm.

Turning her head to the side, she found his face resting just a few inches from hers, his body turned slightly sideways toward hers.

“Hmm?”

His eyes softened at her sleepy reply. “You about ready to go?”

She nodded.

Smiling, he stood up, offering her a hand.

Taking a deep breath and forcing her eyes open, she grasped his hand, letting him pull her to her feet before reluctantly releasing it.

“I think it’s about time for me to head out, guys,” Clarke announced to the group.

The boys started protesting, but not enough to turn away from the screen for more than a few seconds at a time.

Clarke smiled at their attempts. “It was a great game night though. Thanks for hosting, Raven.”

Raven waved her screwdriver. “It’s what I do. I host, you guys bring food and beer.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “You know, I don’t think we ever thought this through. Maybe someone else should host next time.”   

One of Raven’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose. “You want these three in your apartment until 4 am?” She asked, gesturing to the man-children huddled around her TV. “Half the time they end up sleeping on my floor. Do you want to clean drool off your carpet, Bellamy?”

Bellamy took a step back, hands raised in surrender even though he was laughing. “Okay, okay. You win. You can have them. You deserve free pizza and beer after all that.”

“Damn straight,” Raven said, going back to her circuit board.

Clarke chuckled, giving her a quick hug on the way to the door.

“You don’t need to crash on the couch?” Raven asked. “Or you can bunk with me if the thought of three nerds snoring beside you is as terrifying as I imagine it would be.”

Clarke hesitated, glancing quickly at Bellamy, who was already looking back at her. “Uh, no. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer though.”

Raven nodded.

Clarke headed for the door.

“I, uh…I think I’ll go ahead and head out too. I’ll walk you out, Clarke.”

Bellamy said a quick goodbye to everyone, meeting Clarke at the door.

By the time they made it into the hallway and shut the door behind them, Clarke was starting to feel a little awkward.

The easiest answer was just for her to drive home. She hadn’t had that much to drink, so it should be fine…but part of her was really looking forward to the prospect of falling asleep on Bellamy’s couch again.

They got into the elevator, not even glancing at each other.

“You probably shouldn’t drive, right?” He asked.

She glanced up at him as the elevator slowly made its way down. “I didn’t have that much to drink,” she said. For some reason, it felt important for him to know that.

“I know, but you’re falling asleep standing up. You can’t drive that far.”

She smiled at his protectiveness. “Bellamy, it’s not that far. Like, 30 minutes, tops. Given that it’s the middle of the night and traffic will be non-existent, I can probably make it in 20.”

He fixed her with the no-nonsense stare he usually reserved for Octavia and Jasper. “Clarke, come on. I’ve got a perfectly good bed like 100 feet away.” His face started to color slightly as he realized how that had sounded. “I mean…that you can use…or a couch…whichever you want.” His brow furrowed. “No, scratch that. You’re not allowed to use the couch.”

She tried to bite her lip to keep herself from grinning, but wasn’t entirely successful. “You sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to put you out or…”

As they stepped out of the elevator, he shook his head, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her out the doors to the courtyard. “Not even a little. I’m taking the couch though.”

“No, I am.”

“Not a chance, Princess.”

She put her hand on the one he had slung over her shoulder, turning her body toward his to hide her smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke leaned against Bellamy’s kitchen counter, drinking a cold bottle of water, which was slowly helping to revive her.

Right after they’d gotten into his apartment, he’d told her to make herself at home, then disappeared into his bedroom.

She’d managed to drink half the bottle and clear some of the cobwebs from her brain by the time he reappeared, now wearing dark blue sweats and a grey t-shirt.

“Hey,” he said, almost awkwardly.

“Hey,” she responded, eyebrow raised questioningly.

He stopped just outside his bedroom door. “I put some of my clothes out on the bed…for you…if you want them.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well you did make me promise never to let you sleep in jeans again, so…”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Bell,” she said, walking around the counter and past him to head into his room.

Seeing the grey sweats and blue t-shirt neatly folded and waiting for her, she was momentarily surprised.  “Aren’t those the ones you had on last time?” She asked as she picked them up off his bed, mostly because she didn’t expect him to give her his favorites. Hell, when her friends had to borrow her clothes to sleep in, she usually gave them stuff that didn’t fit her or that had been stuffed in the back of a drawer since high school.

“Yeah. I was just…” He ran his hand over the back of his neck, looking at the floor somewhere near her feet. “…they’re the most comfortable. I can try to find you something newer if you want, or there might be something of Octavia’s in…”

Clarke unconsciously held the clothes tighter to her stomach. “No. These are great.”

Finally raising his eyes to meet hers, he nodded.

After closing his bedroom door, Clarke started to change.

Bellamy’s voice carried through the closed door. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?” she responded, freezing in the middle of unbuttoning her shirt.

“There’s a new toothbrush in the top left drawer in the bathroom if you want it.”

“Thanks!” she called, waiting until she heard his footsteps retreat to finish unbuttoning her blouse.

A few minutes later, she was changed and her teeth were clean, thanks to the unopened toothbrush that had been waiting exactly where he’d said it was, and Clarke was on her way back out into the living room.

She paused when she caught sight of herself in the mirror over Bellamy’s dresser.

He’d been right, these were some of the comfiest clothes she’d ever worn. They were broken-in, which meant they were ridiculously soft. It also meant that the shirt clung to her, even though it was technically too large.

Clarke was struck by the image she saw in the mirror. She was wearing a man’s clothes…Bellamy’s clothes…and her curls were in a fairly wild disarray around her head. Most of her make-up had worn off long ago, leaving only a trace of eyeliner.

If Clarke didn’t know any better, she’d swear she’d just left someone’s bed.

Shaking her head to clear that thought from it, she opened the bedroom door and ventured out into the living room.

Bellamy was sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on his phone. When he heard her come out, he glanced up.

Clarke paused in the middle of the floor.

From the way his eyes darkened as they took her in from head to toe, Clarke had a strong suspicion that Bellamy’s mind had gone the same way hers had just a few moments before.

“I…uh…does everything…” his hand gestured toward her. “…fit okay? Find everything you need?” Quickly getting up, he headed into the kitchen.

“Yeah. Thanks for this. And you’re right. They’re super comfy,” she said, sitting down a little uncertainly on the couch.

“Sure. No problem,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen and then standing by the fridge to drink part of it.

Clarke glanced down at the coffee table, wondering why this had gotten awkward. Was it just because borrowing a man’s clothes was something usually only done between couples or after sex?

Clarke worried her lower lip, contemplating it.

She tried to imagine borrowing clothes from Miller or Monty and realized she wouldn’t even think twice about it. So what made borrowing Bellamy’s clothes so…charged?

“You remember this episode?” Bellamy asked, taking the seat beside her.

Clarke glanced at the screen, just now noticing what was playing.

It was another episode of The Twilight Zone, and an old woman was trying to get tiny aliens out of her house by attacking them with a broom.

“I know the spaceship is on the roof, but I can’t remember how it ends,” she said.

Bellamy settled in against the cushions, grabbing the blanket off the arm of the couch.

He paused before he opened it. “You were half dead a little while ago. Did you want to go to sleep?”

She shook her head.

“Clarke…” he said, shooting her that same disapproving look from earlier.

“I’m not tired now. Besides, I have to see how this one ends again. You can’t quit in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode, Bell. You know that. If you do, you probably have horrible dreams that Rod Serling narrates.”

Snorting, Bellamy shook out the blanket, then looked at her expectantly, still holding it up.

She slid underneath it, and into the space at his side, with a grin.

They got settled in, her curled into his side with one of his arms around her.

Clarke accidentally grabbed a handful of his shirt when the door to the woman’s farmhouse flew open with a crash.

“I wouldn’t get too attached to her if I were you,” he murmured.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she responded.

A half hour later, they’d finished the episode (and were therefore safe from creepy dream narration) and were both still partially awake, half watching an episode of Bewitched that had come on. They’d also managed to slide further down the couch while discussing the twist at the end of the episode (Surprise! The giant woman was the alien and the two tiny aliens were actually U.S. Astronauts), and how Agnes Moorehead could play both a giant alien and an overbearing witch well.

“Hey Bell?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

Clarke raised her head from where it had been resting against his chest. “Do you think you’ll ever want to go…somewhere with someone?”

“Huh?”

“When you were telling me about breaking up with Gina… You said she wanted to go somewhere and you didn’t. Do you think you’ll ever want that?”

His hand paused where it had been absently rubbing her back. “I…” He paused for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

Considering his answer for a moment, she nodded, then laid her head back on his chest. “I was just…wondering,” she said softly.

A few moments passed during which neither of them paid attention to the blonde witch causing trouble on the tv screen, both lost in their own thoughts.

Clarke had almost fallen asleep by the time Bellamy spoke again.

“Maybe it wasn’t the timing…maybe it was the person,” he practically whispered, hand tightening fractionally against her back.    


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am neither a doctor nor an engineer, so please don't judge my attempt at science too harshly. This is purely for entertainment purposes. Also, prepare for some feelings in this chapter. As always, thanks to Heather for beta'ing and helping me come up with this backstory.

Clarke blinked sleepily, her eyes finally focusing on the back cushions of a navy blue couch. It took a few more seconds for her to register the warm body pressed against hers and the arm around her waist.

She moved slightly, turning her head to the side.

Bellamy’s eyes were closed, although a small smile was playing on his lips. “Five more minutes.”

She chuckled.

One of his eyes opened, peeking up at her, slowly followed by the other one. “What time is it?”

Clarke moved her left arm out from under her, glancing at her father’s watch, which rarely left her wrist. “Almost nine,” she answered.

“You don’t have to work today, right?”

“Not until 7 tonight.”

Bellamy’s eyes closed again as he wiggled closer to her back, getting more comfortable. “Good. Go back to sleep.”

Clarke settled back in, wondering how oddly she should feel about her current situation. She’d woken up, for the second weekend in a row, cuddled up to a man she considered her best friend. The real problem was, she also couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards him…the attraction she’d always felt towards him, even back when she thought he was a bit of a jackass.

Bellamy apparently didn’t have a problem with their new relationship, if the way he was pressed against her back was any indication.

Taking a deep breath, and trying not to read too much into his actions as of late, she closed her eyes, trying to fall back asleep.

After a few minutes of entirely too many thoughts running through her head, Clarke wiggled around a little, trying to get more comfortable.

Holding her breath, she tentatively placed her hand over Bellamy’s where it was resting across her waist.

It barely took a second for him to link their fingers, tightening his arm around her and pressing his nose against her neck as he did so.

Clarke stayed frozen for a moment, but Bellamy’s breathing only deepened as he fell back to sleep.

Clarke turned her head into her pillow, trying to hide the smile that wasn’t supposed to be on her face.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Clarke awoke, it was to someone gently poking her in the stomach.

“Clarke, wake up.” Bellamy said, smile evident in his tone.

“Uh-uh,” she said, almost petulantly, pressing her nose further into his chest.

“It’s almost noon. I’m hungryyyy,” he said, continuing to poke her side.

“You shouldn’t have told me to go back to sleep then,” she murmured, keeping her eyes shut tightly.

 “Clarrrrke.”

She shook her head.

He nosed against the top of her head. “Taco truck down by the river?”

Smiling, she used the hand she had on his waist to push herself back enough to look up at him. “You just had to bring out the big guns, didn’t you?”

In a show of perfect timing, his stomach growled. “Yes, I did,” he said, laughing.

“Fiiiine. But only because their tacos are the best thing ever.”

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, they were both showered, changed, and in Bellamy’s truck, on their way to the river near the edge of town.

The river served as the unofficial border to downtown and butted up against one of the main boulevards, which served as home to many of the local restaurants and shops that were packed on pleasant fall Saturdays like today.

There was a nice section in between the boulevard and the river which was mostly for pedestrians. It contained a small outdoor amphitheater, a giant playground, and grassy stretches where people could picnic, exercise, or otherwise enjoy nature just a few hundred feet from downtown.

Bellamy found a parking spot and they headed for their favorite food truck, which was technically a taco truck, but served nothing like the tacos most people were used to. With a variety of quality ingredients and unique sauces, they managed to put mouthwateringly delicious things inside flour tortillas.

“Clarke!”

Clarke smiled as Monroe hopped out of the food truck, running over to give her a big hug.

“Where have you been?! You stopped coming, and then this guy stopped coming a while later…I thought you guys were cheating on me with another truckie!”

Bellamy and Clarke both laughed.

“We would never!” Clarke promised.

“It’s just been…” Bellamy glaced at Clarke. “It’s been a hard year.”

Monroe glanced between them, then nodded sympathetically. “We all have those. Come on, you guys want your usuals?”

Clarke laughed. “You still remember our usuals after a year?!”

Monroe grinned, pointing at Clarke, “a Smoked Salmon and a Bulgogi,” she paused, now pointing at Bellamy, “a Bulgogi, a Texas Brisket and…a Portobello!” she said, snapping her fingers as the last part of his order came to her.

“Damn, you’re good,” Bellamy remarked.

“Yeah, well, you guys must’ve placed that same order about 300 times.” Monroe hopped back in the truck, and started working the grill. “You guys want sweet teas with that?”

“Yes, please,” Clarke responded.

Monroe nodded, turning to a teenager who was working the cash register and giving him instructions.

“That’ll be $21.75, please,” the boy said.

Clarke reached for her purse, but Bellamy swatted her hand away, sliding a $20 and a $5 into the window.

The teenager made their change, which Bellamy promptly placed in the tip jar.

Monroe shook her head when she noticed his generosity. “I’ll have these out in a few minutes!”

Clarke and Bellamy wandered a few feet away, barely getting situated at a picnic table before Monroe was bringing cardboard trays out to them.

“You didn’t have to bring these out!” Clarke said in surprise.

“Sure I did.” Monroe said, placing their orders on the table in front of them. “Not just anybody gets free blackberry cobbler, you know.”

“You didn’t have to…” Bellamy started.

“I know. But I figure it will guilt you into coming back more often,” Monroe said with a wink.

Clarke sighed, having just taken a bite of one of her tacos. “I promise, you’ll be seeing us constantly again. God, I missed these tacos. Seriously, are you a magician?”

“Yup. I was actually thinking of changing the name of my truck to Culinary Wizard,” Monroe replied cheekily.

“Well, it wouldn’t be false advertising,” Clarke replied sincerely.

“See? I need you guys around to bolster my ego,” Monroe said, laughing as she headed back to the truck. “Have a good lunch!”

“Thanks!” They called out as she disappeared inside.

Bellamy turned back to Clarke. “Want to go down closer to the water?”

Nodding, Clarke picked up her tray and followed him.

They kept walking until the crowds thinned out, finding a nice area of grass that was unoccupied and sitting under the shade of a large tree.

They ate their tacos in companionable silence, pausing only occasionally to mumble about how delicious their lunch was and what a genius Monroe was with a portable kitchen.

They finished everything, including the cobbler, and were lying back on their elbows in the grass when Bellamy turned to look at her questioningly.

Clarke sighed. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought…maybe you were ready.”

She laid back all the way, looking up at the sky. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. But I guess now’s as good a time as any.” She pulled her jacket tighter across her stomach, as if that would help. “How much do you know about what I found out? I can’t remember, honestly.”

Bellamy looked slightly apprehensive.

She turned towards him. “It’s okay, just tell me,” she said softly.

“You told me that your Dad hadn’t just died from a car wreck, but I couldn’t really get much else out of you. I pieced together a few things from Octavia later. She heard you arguing with your Mom on the phone. Something about how it was her fault. And then Wells and Jaha came into play somehow? And the day I found you at the bar…” Bellamy’s eyes shifted away uncomfortably at that. “…you just kept saying that your Mom killed your Dad.”

Clarke sat up, crossing her legs Indian style and pulling a blade of grass out to twist between her fingers. She knew she would need something to focus on if she had any hope of getting through this story. “You know my Dad died when I was 17…my senior year of high school. Just a little while before I met you and Octavia. It was…a car crash. He fell asleep behind the wheel and ran off the interstate and into a tree.”

Bellamy, who’d also sat up, placed a comforting hand on her knee. “I know.”

Clarke nodded, waiting, staring at Bellamy’s hand.

Realizing where she was looking, he hesitantly removed his hand, looking hurt. “Sorry…I was just…”

Reaching out, she grasped his hand tightly. “No! It’s just…I don’t know if I can get through this if you…” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. “I just…I need to be detached to get through telling this story. I can’t do that if you’re…grounding me? Does that make any sense?”

Bellamy nodded, putting his hand in his lap when she released it.

“You know about Wells, right?”

Bellamy nodded. “Childhood best friend, his father worked at the hospital with your mom, he died when you guys were…twelve?” He asked questioningly.

Clarke nodded. “I was twelve. He was thirteen. He had cancer, a rare kind calling Ewing’s Sarcoma. By the time they realized he was sick, it had spread from his femur to other parts of his body and even with the surgeries and the chemo…they couldn’t get it all.”

“Okay…” Bellamy responded, not seeing how this tied in to her father’s death.

“His dad…Thelonious…was just…he was destroyed. I mean…we all were. Our families had grown up together…done everything together: holidays, birthdays, vacations. He was like a brother to me and my parents basically considered him to be their second child. But Wells’ mom had died when he was little…which mean that Thelonious had no one. We tried…we tried to help him. We invited him to dinner, we’d offer to help him with anything…with everything…but it was like he just ceased caring about anything anymore. He locked himself in his house for a good six months.”

“That must have been hard…for everyone,” Bellamy commented.

“It was. I felt horrible, because Wells would’ve wanted me to do something to help his dad…but I didn’t know what to do.”

“Clarke…you were just a kid…”

She smiled at him. “I know. Well…I know that now, anyway. Back then, it felt like I should’ve had some kind of magic solution. But my parents…they were both grieving for Wells too. And they were worried about Thelonious. My Mom kept trying to reach out to him, trying to engage him, and she’d worry herself sick when he wouldn’t respond. My Dad got sick of it and then they’d fight…” Clarke sighed. “Those were not good years.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

She nodded. “But then, when I was 14, things…got better. Almost overnight. Thelonious started coming around again, not as often, but he’d show up for dinner every once in a while. And he and my parents started talking all the time…more so than before, even. It wasn’t until a few months later that I learned what was going on.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Jaha and my mother had been trying to come up with a way to fight Ewing’s Sarcoma. I don’t know if I realized it at the time, but they were both blaming themselves. It had to be extremely hard…both of them being world class doctors and neither of them being able to save this child they loved so much.”

“Shit.”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile at his eloquence. “Exactly. So they worked for months, they would get almost giddy when they thought they were on the edge of a breakthrough…and then the depression when they’d fail would be all-consuming. My teenage years were…like I said…not so great. But, what got me through…what I think got us all through…was the thought that maybe they could do something that would stop someone else from losing their son, their best friend…you know?”

“I do.”

“So, sometime during my sophomore year, I guess I was around 15, they finally come up with something. They had to move on from just Ewing’s Sarcoma. That was part of the problem. That form of cancer already had a decent survival rate, I think it’s around 70%. Wells was just one of the unlucky ones that didn’t catch it early enough to make it into those statistics.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Clarke twisted the blade of grass in her fingers, first one way, then the other. “So, they eventually come up with idea for a new type of imaging machine.”

“Like a Cat Scan?”

“Kind of. Similar to a Cat Scan or an MRI. I’m not even sure how they designed it…” Clarke glanced up at him then. “After everything, I could never bring myself to look.”

“Understandable,” he said soothingly.

“But this machine was supposed to detect tumors much better than any current imaging system. And not only that…it could supposedly tell, with just the image, if a tumor was benign or cancerous. Could you even imagine? That would have meant no more invasive biopsies, which have a long list of potential complications on their own. And it also would have meant that people like Wells would have more of a chance. If they had a more accurate reading of the locations of all the tumors, maybe they could’ve done surgery earlier and given him more of a chance.”

“Okay.”

“This is when they brought my Dad in. He was the best engineer in his field. They started consulting with him on how they would actually build this machine. He joined the project, and soon enough, they had a prototype. They went to the hospital, the government…I don’t even know. Before I know it, they’re talking about using the machine in a clinical trial at the hospital. One of the other doctors was starting a new clinical trial for cancer patients…they were only taking physically fit patients and they were going to try the most aggressive therapies possible.” Clarke went into doctor mode, explaining this part to Bellamy. “Typically, they’re hesitant to do surgery on some forms of cancer, fearing that it’s not efficient enough or that it’s too big a risk to a patient’s health, especially when they’re already weak.”

Bellamy nodded. “I’m following.”

“This trial was supposed to use the most aggressive forms of treatment possible, to see if it actually made a difference on survival rates. If so, doctors would then use these new statistics to see if these more invasive treatments were worth the risk on other patients. Given that they were going to use surgery in a lot of these cases, Jaha and my parents petitioned to get their new imaging equipment into the study. Using it, they could pinpoint far more accurately the location of all the tumors and then surgically remove as many as possible.”

Clarke took a deep breath, staring out at the water for a minute before continuing. “By all accounts, it was going extremely well. Many of the patients did well, far outliving the conventional statistics for their forms of cancer. And…from everything I heard…a lot of it was because of the machine my parents built with Jaha. They eventually got it into another trial…and another. My Mom was writing medical papers on it that were going to be published in the most prestigious medical journals. There was talk of it completely replacing the Cat Scan, MRI, and the Pet Scan, at least in terms of cancer screenings and treatment. But then…one day…I’m sixteen and I walk into my Dad’s office at the house to steal his stapler. His freaking stapler, Bellamy.” Her voices cracks on the last sentence.

Bellamy’s hand twitched in his lap, but he remained quiet, knowing that the story was about to take a turn for the worse.

“He’d rushed into work early that morning because something had gone wrong on one of his firm’s projects…I don’t even remember what, but he’d rushed out of his home office before I’d left for school. I was late finishing my homework…of course…and my AP Lit essay ended up being like seven pages long. So I’m already late, I rush into his office to use his stapler, because mine is out of staples, and I see these papers all over his desk. Typically, I wouldn’t have even looked…but they had giant red ‘URGENT’ stamps all over them…” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

“All I can see are these giant red letters, so I glance down at what else is on them…and they’re about the machine. I didn’t read them all…and I didn’t understand all of what I did read, of course, but basically, I’m reading words like ‘too imprecise across varying cases to be trusted’ and then even more horrifying things like ‘dangerous levels of long-term radiation which may actually cause cancer’ and I start freaking out. I assume Dad just didn’t have time to get these to Mom and Jaha before he rushed out, and I figure it’s urgent that they have them. I needed my Mom to sign a tardy slip for me anyway, so I pack up the papers and call Mom. She meets me in the lobby at the hospital, signs my tardy slip, and I hand her the folder. She looks at it oddly, which I find kind of weird, but I figure I’ll sort it out later, right? I go to school and then to softball practice, and honestly, I forgot about it for a few days. One day at breakfast, I ask her about it. She says it was all a mistake and to forget about it…and I do.”

“I started noticing my parents fighting more often again…and sometimes Jaha was there too…but I was SUCH a selfish teenager, Bellamy…”

“Clarke…”

“No. I was. I’d just figured out that I liked girls too and I was too busy trying to figure out how that made me feel… _who_ that made me…I didn’t even realize what was going on right under my nose.”

“ _Clarke_ ,” Bellamy said, his face almost pleading. “You were a _kid._ Most kids have it bad enough, but you were dealing with losing your best friend and discovering you were bi too…I can’t even imagine.”

“But I should have…” Clarke shook her head. “Anyway, my Dad moved out a few weeks later. Or, more accurately, I guess I should say my Mom kicked him out.”

“Let me guess, his reports were right and she didn’t want to hear it.”

Clarke nodded. “Neither did Jaha. I didn’t learn all this until last year, of course. Mom just told me they were having trouble and needed to separate for a while. This lasted for a few months…and Dad started coming around less and less. I didn’t understand why…I thought I’d done something wrong…and then, right after my seventeenth birthday…he crashed his car into a tree.”

“Clarke…”

She held up a hand, asking him to let her finish. “Mom said he’d been working too hard lately and that’s why he fell asleep behind the wheel. Which…technically was true, I guess.”

“…how did you find this out last year?” Bellamy asked cautiously, almost as if he was afraid to hear the answer.   

“After he died, I went to clean out his apartment. Most of his clothes and all that stuff I donated…but I put everything from his bookshelf into a box, sealed it shut, and put it in the back of my closet. It sat there for six years. One day last year, I’m trying to find a pair of gloves that I swear are in there somewhere, and I run across it. Figure, what the hell, it’s been long enough. I can handle it. Right.” She snorts in derision.

“I find a journal and one of those big accordion folders. The folder held schematics and more medical and engineering jargon than I could even begin to decipher, even as a medical student. The journal…it was like a cross between a diary and a work journal. It started out detailing his research…but then, as he got more and more depressed and started sleeping less and less…he started including personal stuff as well. Apparently, Mom and Jaha refused to believe his findings. They were SO determined to do something useful…as if that could somehow retroactively save Wells…that they just refused to listen to reason. At first, they begged him to do more tests. So, he did. That’s when he found out how dangerous the machine could really be. Apparently, it could detect cancer in its original form…but then it calibrated itself to search for the exact same thing all through that patient’s body. If they had one form of cancer…like bone cancer…then it was good at finding it in every location. But a lot of the time, people start out with one form…like breast cancer…and then it metastasizes to other locations, becoming brain cancer, liver cancer, etcetera. The clinical trials my Mom and Jaha were using it in all had young, healthy patients who typically only had one form of cancer, so they didn’t catch the flaw right away. Had they tried to use this on other cancer patients…the incorrect readings could have been catastrophic. Not to mention…the machine emitted potentially fatal levels of radiation. It wasn’t detectable at first, which is how they hadn’t picked up on it yet, but the rays it used to scan your body actually left tiny particles inside you that could deliver long term radiation doses…enough to actually _cause_ cancer. Apparently it only happened like 5% of the time…but that was entirely too much. But Mom and Jaha didn’t want to hear it. Mom kicked Dad out…threatened to divorce him and even threated that he’d never see me again if he told anyone about his findings.”

Clarke glanced up at the sky, willing herself to not start crying. “I’m not sure if Mom and Jaha were having an affair or not. Honestly, I don’t think I want to know. But…they were _so_ close then. I think…well, Mom told me, after I came home, that she couldn’t stop imagining how she would have felt if I’d been the one who’d died instead of Wells. He and I were always inseparable…and she and Thelonious were doctors…they were both just so determined to _fix it._ I think that was part of the problem…my Dad just didn’t understand how guilty they both felt.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Wait though…there’s more. My Dad…he loved my Mom _so much_ …he didn’t turn them in. He didn’t report his findings to the hospital board to get their program shut down. Do you know why he was so tired, he crashed his car into a tree??” Clarke felt the tears falling down her cheeks, but she couldn’t do anything to stop them.

Bellamy shook his head, concern for her stamped all over his face.

“He was trying to fix it for them, Bellamy. He worked, on his own, for _months_ , trying to redesign it to work correctly.” Clarke laughed humorlessly. “She was probably having an affair with his best friend, and he literally worked himself to death trying to make her happy.”

“ _Clarke_ …”

“But that’s not even the best part. See, Mom wasn’t the only one responsible for his death.” Clarke was crying so hard she could barely see, shaking as she admitted this for the first time out loud. “If I hadn’t needed a _fucking_ stapler…if I hadn’t taken those papers to her…” She trailed off, barely able to speak.

 _“Clarke_ …” he repeated.

She could barely glance at him, terrified of what she’d find on his face.

He looked physically pained, his body tense and his eyes trained unflinchingly on hers. His hand started to reach for her of its own volition. He forced it back down.

“What?” she asked, terrified of his answer.

“ _…can I touch you now?”_ he asked, his voice anguished.

Clarke brushed angrily at the tears falling down her cheeks. “ _Why would you want to?_ ”

Making a noise low in his throat, he reached for her, pulling her into his lap.

Clarke tried to resist him…or at least she meant to. Her arms ended up trapped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

He was rubbing anywhere he could reach, her back, her arms, her hip, all while pressing her tightly against his chest. “Don’t think that, Clarke. Please don’t ever think that.”

“But it’s true, Bellamy,” she sobbed against him.

“No, it’s not,” he said fiercely. “Your mom and Jaha were the ones that betrayed your dad. They were the ones willing to put people’s lives at risk all to make themselves feel better. You did _nothing_ wrong, Clarke. Your dad obviously intended to do something with his findings anyway. And you were _just a kid_. Don’t blame yourself. Please don’t blame yourself.” His last sentence sounded like a plea.

One of Clarke’s hands had made its way up to Bellamy’s shoulder and she was gripping it tightly. “See? _This. This_ is why I left.”

Bellamy tensed under her. “… _what?_ ” he asked, his voice again sounding pained.

Clarke pressed her face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, positive she couldn’t say this while looking at him. “You always make everything better.”

She could feel him frown against her hair.

“You always make me feel…” She searched for the right words. “…warm…and safe…like everything is going to be okay. I couldn’t…I didn’t want that then, Bellamy. I needed to be angry…I needed to feel guilty…I needed that to hold me together. Because if those were gone…all I’d have left is this gut-wrenching sadness…and I didn’t think I could handle that.”

He clutched her even tighter. “You could have, Clarke. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And we would have been there for you. We would have helped you get through it.”

“I know. I know you would have, Bell. But I was strong when my best friend died when I was 12. I was strong when my Dad died when I was 17. But for those…who did I have to blame? God? This time…I had people to blame. And I _needed_ to. I was tired of being strong for everyone else. I needed to be angry for myself this time.”

“Did it help?” he asked quietly.

She laughed humorlessly. “I doubt it. I think I just delayed the gut-wrenching sadness.”

His hand fisted in her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded.

He waited until she’d stopped shaking to say, “Can I ask…what made you forgive your Mom?”

Sighing, she scooted down a little, leaning the side of her head against his chest. “I don’t know that I have, to be honest. But eventually, I realized that she was hurting almost as badly as I was. She felt even guiltier than I did…and she made Jaha shut the trials down right after my Dad died. She still loved my Dad…she was just so wrapped up, she didn’t realize what she was setting in motion. I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive her for that…but I realized that I was hurting both of us by hating her.”

Bellamy nodded. “What ever happened to Jaha?”

Clarke snorted. “Last I heard, he was out in the desert somewhere…Arizona, I think? He’d joined some commune. ‘The City of Light,’ I think it was called. Supposedly, they take away all your pain and suffering so you can live worry free in a place where there’s never any darkness.” Clarke paused, watching her hand as it fidgeted with the button on Bellamy’s shirt. “I’m pretty sure they just took all his money and are pumping him full of peyote. Honestly, I can’t say that I care.”

“Me neither.”

Clarke smiled at that.

A few more minutes passed where neither spoke, both of their minds working overtime to digest what was just said between them.

“Bell?”

“Hmm?” he asked, moving his hand on her back.

“Do you remember the advice you gave me and Octavia? That first night we’d gotten drunk at that college bar and you brought us home and taught us about Hangover Breakfast?”

He smiled at that memory. “If memory serves, I doled out a few pieces of big brother advice that morning. Which one?”

“You made us promise never to get drunk with anyone we didn’t trust. Basically, never to lose control unless you had someone around that cared enough about you to make good decisions for you.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s the best advice I’ve ever gotten.”

He moved back to look at her, surprised.

“I went against it completely…and it was the worst decision of my life.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “…Lexa?” he asked, the word bitter on his tongue.

Clarke nodded. “I knew…who she was. I knew she ran one of the largest drug operations in town. And…I knew that she could never care about anyone but herself. But I went with her anyway.”

“ _Why?_ ” he asked.

Clarke shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the answer she was about to give. “I don’t know. She never asked questions…she never tried to make me feel better. When I wanted to go to a bar and start a fight, she was right there beside me. When I wanted to get wasted, she supplied the booze and the pills. She let me be angry and self-destructive and…I don’t know…I thought that’s what I needed.”

Bellamy’s entire body was tense, his jaw locked as he absorbed her words. “What finally made you leave?”

Clarke smiled self-depricatingly. “Let’s just say, I realized that I was going to get myself killed if I stayed around there much longer.”

Bellamy’s eyes darted to meet hers. “What happened, Clarke?”

Knowing Bellamy’s anger when it came to the issue of drug use, and knowing why he felt so strongly, Clarke brushed the backs of her knuckles against the side of his jaw. “Can we…” she sighed. “Can that wait till another day?”

He studied her for a few seconds, his gaze scanning her face before he finally nodded, moving them so that his back was against the tree they’d been sitting under.

Clarke settled her head back against him.

“Thanks for telling me. I know that can’t have been easy.”

Clarke nodded. “It wasn’t. But I should have done it a year ago.”

Silent moments passed where the only sounds were from the breeze whistling through the trees and the boats on the water in front of them.

“Clarke, do you remember what else I said the first morning after I found you and Octavia drunk?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wrong.”

Clarke leaned back to look up at him, her brow furrowed. “About what?”

He smiled gently. “You did become one of my favorite people.”


	9. Chapter 9

Clarke pulled her backpack out of her locker. “Seriously…I’m too tired to even contemplate retying my shoes right now. There’s no way I can change clothes.”

Bryan chuckled from the locker a few spaces down. “What happened? Was Indra that bad? You usually like working in Peds.”

Clarke sighed. “No, she was fine. Well, she was terrifying, but that’s nothing new. It’s just been…a rough night. These 7pm-7am shifts suck. They suck hairy monkey balls.”

“Go home and get some sleep,” he said sympathetically, patting her on the shoulder as she walked past him on her way out the door.

“You too.”

Clarke got on the elevator, not even paying attention as her body found its way on auto-pilot.

She was halfway through the lobby when she heard her name being called. Glancing up, she saw Bellamy leaning against the wall next to one of the giant fish tanks.

“Bell…what are you doing here?” She frowned, glancing over him. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

He scoffed. “No, I didn’t hurt myself, Clarke. I’m here to take you to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” she asked, as if it was a totally foreign concept.

His eyebrows rose. “You know…the thing most people eat in the morning? Usually involves eggs of some kind. Maybe some bacon…pancakes…French toast if you’re feeling really wild.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know what breakfast _is_ , Bellamy. Did we have plans that I completely forgot about?”

“No,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and leading her toward the doors.

“So you just showed up in the hospital lobby at 7 on a Sunday morning to take me to breakfast just for the hell of it?” she asked, still trying to look at him as he propelled her through the doors and onto the sidewalk.

“Pretty much.”

She stopped just outside the hospital. “Bell, I’m exhausted and I look like shit…” she gestured to her scrubs. “I was just going to go home and pass out.”

“Have you eaten at all since the tacos?” he asked, as if he knew the answer was no.

“Yes!”

He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Clarke held his gaze as long as she could before finally admitting, “Bryan handed me an apple sometime around midnight.”

Bellamy’s face of disapproval got sterner, if that was even possible. “Clarke.”

“I was busy!”

“Uh-huh,” he said, again using his hand on her back to push her toward the diner next door.

“Bell, I need to go home and crash. I’m exhausted.”

His face softened as he looked down at her. “I know. I figured you’d be dead on your feet after…yesterday…and malnourished to boot. So, we’re going to go in here, you’re going to at least make an effort to eat something, and then you’re going to crash at my place. Just think, in the time it would take you to drive to your house, you’ll have already eaten and be back at my place, drooling on your favorite blanket,” he said, smiling as he held the door to the diner open for her.

She narrowed her eyes, trying not to smile. “I don’t _drool_ ,” she said, walking under his arm and inside.

“You do,” he replied, pausing to tell the hostess that they’d need a table for two and then following her toward the back of the diner. “It’s cute,” he said, smirking and definitely not looking at Clarke.

“Jackass,” she muttered as he held her chair out for her.

The next few minutes were spent in silence as they glanced over the breakfast menus in front of them.

Clarke finally set hers down, glancing at the man across from her. “You were worried about me,” she said softly, more a statement than a question.

His eyes came up to meet hers. “I know how much that took out of you yesterday and then you had to work a 12-hour shift. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So you got up while it was still dark outside on your day off?!” she asked incredulously.

He shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Truth be told, I didn’t sleep all that well.”

Clarke frowned. “Why?”

“I just…I can’t imagine, Clarke. I can’t imagine what you were going through…what you’re still going through.” His hand fidgeted absently with the fork sitting on the table in front of him. “I just want to keep asking you if you’re okay, but I know there’s no way you can be…”

“Bell…I am,” she said, placing her hand on top of his. “Or…at least I will be. I’ve got this crazy guy that will get up at 6 am on his day off just to make sure I eat. How could I not be okay?”

His hand moved under hers, turning to squeeze her fingers.

“He’ll also let me crash at his place and drool all over _his_ favorite blanket. What more could a girl ask for?”

Bellamy opened his mouth, his eyes boring into hers as if he was going to say something significant.

“What can I get y’all?” the waitress asked, startling both of them.

Clarke quickly released Bellamy’s hand, picking her menu back up. “I’ll have a glass of orange juice and…you know what? I’m feeling a little wild. Why don’t you make it French toast?” she said, grinning at the man across from her.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can go home, Bellamy. It’s not that big of a deal,” Clarke said, standing in Bellamy’s kitchen.

He paused just outside his bedroom door, turning back to look at her. “…do you _want_ to go home?”

Clarke held his gaze, seeing a bit of trepidation there that matched her own. “No,” she said softly, then continued after a beat, “but I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity and…it’s daytime. I don’t want you to have to change your schedule around just because I had to work a night shift. What are you going to do while I’m asleep in your apartment?”

He scoffed. “Please. My grand plans for today were to do laundry and catch up on some work. You taking a nap in the other room isn’t going to crimp my style.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Did you seriously just say _‘crimp my style?’”_

“Shut up.”

“Have you been watching Gidget reruns without me again??” she teased.

Rolling his eyes, Bellamy didn’t respond, heading into the bedroom in silence.

He returned just a minute or two later…in fact, Clarke was still chuckling.

“Go ahead. Clothes are on the bed,” he said, heading for the couch.

Clarke glanced behind him, where she could see the same clothes she’d borrowed last time folded neatly on top of his bed, which was also tidily made.

Grabbing his arm, she stopped him, pressing a slightly longer than average kiss to his cheek before hugging him tightly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really _really_ glad you seem to think I do.”

By the time she pulled back, Bellamy’s cheeks had colored, and his eyes didn’t seem to want to meet hers.

Smiling anyway, Clarke squeezed his arm, then headed into his room, shutting the door so she could change.

A few minutes later, again comfortably clad in his roomy clothes, Clarke opened the door partway to find Bellamy sitting on the couch, pouring over a notebook and a tablet that were on the coffee table in front of him.

Clarke leaned against the door frame, watching him for a minute before she called out a gentle, “Night, Bell.”

Glancing up, his gaze took in her form, which was swamped in his clothing. Smiling, he returned, “Night, Clarke.”

Leaving him with a smile, Clarke padded across his room, turning down the comforter and sliding into bed.

She immediately snuggled deep into the sheets, which smelled exactly like Bellamy. It wasn’t quite as good as snuggling up to the actual man, but it was the next best thing.

Clarke closed her eyes, finding a comfortable spot and expecting to drift off immediately, especially after the last 24 hours.

Surprisingly, sleep didn’t come as she’d expected and she found herself still awake a good twenty minutes later.

Huffing, Clarke opened her eyes, glancing around the room.

Bellamy’s room was pretty much the same as it had been for the last six years that she’d known him; there was an oak colored headboard, night stand, and dresser, and the rest of the room was mostly varying shades of blue, from the navy-blue curtains and sheets to the lighter blue plaid comforter. It definitely wouldn’t win a spot in Home & Garden anytime soon, but it was straightforward, comfortable…Bellamy.

Clarke frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d slept in here. It was probably a few years ago, the night of Octavia’s 21st birthday party. Everyone, Bellamy included, had gotten shit-faced, and the three of them had taken a cab back to his apartment.

Maybe that was the problem…Clarke had never slept in here without (a) being drunk and (b) without Octavia passed out beside her.

Now, being in Bellamy’s apartment and not being…well… _with_ Bellamy just seemed odd.

Tossing the covers off, Clarke padded to the doorway, peeking her head out.

Bellamy was laying on the couch on his back, seemingly staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Surprised, he turned his head toward the sound of her voice. “Hey. Can’t you sleep?”

Shaking her head, she asked, “What happened to laundry and catching up on work?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was thinking about taking a nap, you know, being super productive today.”

Clarke just smiled, leaning against the door frame again.     

Bellamy turned on his side to face her, scooting back to leave space at the edge. “Come on,” he said gruffly.

Without a word, Clarke walked lightly across the room, only realizing that this was new territory once she got to the couch and was unsure how to proceed.

Although she’d woken up with Bellamy multiple times in the past few weeks, most of the time, she couldn’t remember falling asleep with him. (She wasn’t counting yesterday, because she’d fallen asleep again without moving from the position she woke up in.)

They were either tipsy or exhausted, usually falling asleep sitting up. Then, when they woke up wrapped around each other, they could pretend like it was purely circumstantial.

This…this was an entirely different beast altogether.

“I…uh,” she said, standing above him, her hands fidgeting almost to the point of wringing.

He looked up at her, the expression on his face unreadable. “Just lay down, Clarke.”

“Right,” she said, nodding her head once…twice before sitting down gently and then laying on her side, her back to him. For some inexplicable reason, she was trying to stay on the edge of the couch, as if there was room for either of them to have any personal space to begin with. It was a deeper than normal couch, yes, but it was still just a couch.    

They stayed that way for a moment or two before Bellamy let out a huff, his arm going around her waist to pull her firmly back against him. “Go to sleep, Clarke.”

Clarke let out a content sigh, immediately more comfortable as he seemed to surround her.

Yeah, this was definitely better than the sheets, Clarke thought, as she almost immediately felt sleep claim her.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke woke slowly, as she usually did without an alarm.

By this time, she was getting used to waking up on Bellamy’s couch, so she was familiar with the fabric underneath her and the soft blanket on top of her, but she was a little confused because there wasn’t a warm body pressed against hers nor an arm thrown over her waist.

Blinking a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes, she finally focused them enough to realize that there was a dark head of hair and a broad pair of shoulders just in front of her.

Apparently, Bellamy had woken up before her and was now sitting on the floor, his back against the couch right in front of her. Clarke could just make out the same tablet and notebook still on the coffee table from before, and Bellamy seemed to be using the calculator on his phone to add something.

Without even thinking about it, Clarke’s hand moved up to tangle in the hair near the nape of his neck. She started absentmindedly running her fingers against his head in a motion that was meant to be soothing.

Bellamy tensed for a moment before relaxing into it. “Clarke?”

She yawned, continuing her ministrations. “Hmm?” she answered sleepily.

“You’re…” he cleared his throat. “You’re going to put me back to sleep if you keep doing that.”

Reluctantly, she disentangled her fingers from his curls, instead moving her hand to rest in the dip of his shoulder.

It seemed so natural to press a kiss to the back of his neck, her mouth was halfway there before she realized what she was even doing.

Thankful that he couldn’t see what she’d been about to do, Clarke quickly removed her hand and turned onto her back, trying to put a little distance between them. “What time is it?”

He glanced at the phone that was still in his hand. “Almost 2.”

Clarke sat up. “I should probably get going. I think my Mom wanted to have dinner tonight.”

“Oh…okay,” he said, looking at her questioningly over his shoulder.

“I’ll go get dressed,” she said, standing up. “Did you want me to take these clothes home and wash them?”

“What?” he frowned. “No. Just leave them in the bedroom. I’ll get them.”

She nodded, hurrying into the bathroom with her clothes and shutting the door.

Taking a deep breath to calm her heart, which was currently racing, she glanced in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wide, which perfectly conveyed how she was feeling at the moment.

She’d kissed Bellamy before, more times than she could count…on the cheek. It was what good friends did, right? It was a perfectly normal way to say ‘thank you’ or ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye.’

But just a moment ago…what she’d almost done…her lips seconds away from pressing a warm kiss to the back of his neck…that didn’t feel like a friend saying ‘hello.’

It felt like a lover saying ‘good morning.’

A barrage of images assailed her, as if she was seeing snapshots of moments from the outside, even though she’d been _in_ them…the way they’d clung to each other when he’d first forgiven her…the way she’d woken up with her nose pressed against his chest, their legs tangled together…leaning against the back of Raven’s couch just inches from each other, figuring out if it was time to go home yet…her hand over his, their fingers laced together as his arm encircled her…sitting in his lap in the grass for _hours_ yesterday as he held her while she cried…

Clarke realized that _so many_ of their interactions could be construed much more intimately than she’d ever realized.

Bellamy was…he was her favorite person in the entire world. He was her best friend. And he was also sort of all that was holding her together right now. She couldn’t…She didn’t have the energy to even contemplate…

Changing quickly and throwing her hair into a ponytail, Clarke made her way through Bellamy’s bedroom and out into the living room, intending to make a quick exit before she had time to mess anything else up.

The minute she stepped into the living room and saw Bellamy’s face, that plan went out the window.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry written all over him.

Clarke wasn’t sure if he was worried about her or worried that he’d done something wrong…probably some of both…but it made her realize that she couldn’t run…not again.

She’d run before, when she was too afraid to feel, and it had broken both of them. Now, he’d gone above and beyond to take care of her in every way possible. She couldn’t do that to him again.

Tamping down the part of herself that was screaming at her to flee because she couldn’t handle the complications that would arise if she let herself think about her feelings, she forced herself to relax. “Yeah, I’m fine. I actually called my Mom…she said dinner wouldn’t be until late tonight anyway, so I don’t need to rush home.”

“Oh. That’s…Okay,” he said, still watching her warily.

“So…what were you working on?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch and glancing over his shoulder. “You never said.”

“Oh…this is part of my new job as a foreman. I have to keep track of the inventory on the job sites, tell the main office what parts to order, and draw up the schedules.”

“That sounds like a lot of extra work.”

He shrugged. “It’s what I get paid extra for. I’m just trying to figure out how many cans of paint I’ll need for this next job. We have a formula…you know…this many square feet of wall means this many gallons of paint, but this lady has vaulted ceilings and giant picture windows…” he trailed off, still glancing at Clarke a bit uncertainly after her attempt to dash frantically a few minutes ago.

She smiled, patting his shoulder in what she promised herself was a friendly gesture. “Math never was your strong suit. Give me the calculator, Bellamy.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Mostly fluff and jealousy. #sorrynotsorry

“Hey!” Clarke said cheerfully, finding Bellamy waiting just outside the coffee shop.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, holding the door open for her and then following her inside. “The hospital must be kicking your ass, I feel like I haven’t talked to you all week.”

“Yeah…” she said, deliberately keeping her eyes focused on the menu board behind the counter.

Yes, this had been a hectic week, but it was Thursday and she hadn’t seen Bellamy since Sunday, which wasn’t all that unusual, but she’d barely talked to him all week either. Most of that had been deliberate on her part, given that she wasn’t quite sure how to act around him anymore.

But enough was enough, and she was tired of depriving herself of his company, so when he’d asked to meet during his lunch break, which also happened to be right before her shift at the hospital, she’d agreed.

The line moved quickly, and Clarke was soon placing her order for a ham and cheese panini along with a peppermint latte. She paid, then moved down to let Bellamy order.

The same college-aged girl that had barely managed to smile at her during their interaction was now lit up like a Christmas tree and staring entirely too interestedly at Bellamy.

“Well, _hi_ ,” she said breathily, a more than inviting smile on her face. “How are _you?_ ”

Bellamy barely glanced at her, his gaze still on the menu board above her head. “I’m fine, how are you?” he asked, in the polite but detached way Clarke always heard him speak to strangers.

“I’m doing really great right now,” she said, unconsciously cocking a hip.

Clarke frowned, tilting her head as she watched the interaction. Well, maybe it wasn’t so unconscious after all.

“What can I get you?” the girl asked, batting her eyes at the man in front of her, and if Clarke had ever heard a more blatant invitation in her life, it had probably been while watching something rated X.

“I’ll take a black coffee and one of those chicken, spinach, and mozzarella paninis.”

“Sure thing,” she said, finally glancing down at the cash register in front of her and pressing a few buttons. “That’ll be $11.41.”

Bellamy pulled out his wallet, handing her a $10 and two $1’s.

She pressed the appropriate buttons, then made the change. When giving him the coins, she made a big show of putting one of her hands underneath the one he was holding out, then dumping the coins in with the other. “Just want to make sure none of these go rolling,” she said, smiling coquettishly as she leaned over, offering what was probably a decent view of her cleavage.

“Thanks,” Bellamy said politely, dropping the coins into the front pocket of his jeans and then moving to stand beside Clarke further down the counter. When he saw that there was some room between them and the next person in front of them, he put his hand on her lower back, gently pushing her forward a few steps.

Just then, the door opened, letting in a particularly chilly blast of air. It was only November, but they were having a cold snap, and Clarke hadn’t put on more than a light jacket. As the cold blast of air seemed to blow right through her, Clarke unconsciously stepped closer into Bellamy’s body heat.

His hand moved from her lower back to her side, holding her against him.

Clarke turned just in time to see the girl working the cash register glaring daggers at her before she turned back to the customer next in line.

Snorting, Clarke tried to turn it into a cough.

Bellamy glanced down at her, eyebrow raised. “What?”

Clarke just stared at him incredulously. “Do you really not know?”

“…know what?”

“That girl was flirting with you.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “What girl?” he turned to the side, following Clarke’s gaze. “The cashier? I doubt it.”

Clarke’s eyebrows rose even further. “Seriously, Bellamy. Hardcore flirting. I’m pretty sure you could’ve ordered a quickie behind the counter and she wouldn’t even have charged you.”

Color rose to his cheeks at that but he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Clarke.”

Clarke looked to the left again, finding the girl and trying to look at her more objectively. She was pretty, even in an apron and work uniform, with straight blonde hair pulled back in a perky ponytail and what looked like hazel eyes. The ponytail wasn’t the only thing that was perky, and Clarke wondered for a moment if she still looked effortlessly attractive like that, or if it was something that disappeared after you left college.

Glancing down at her scrubs and tennis shoes, her hand unconsciously patting the messy French braid in her hair, and realizing she had on the bare minimum as far as make-up was concerned, Clarke suddenly felt like a troll.

“I’m not being ridiculous, Bellamy. She was into you. You’d have to be blind not to notice.” She frowned, glancing at the girl again. “Is she not your type? I know Gina had dark hair and so did Roma…” she said, mentioning the girl Bellamy used to screw around with back when Clarke and Octavia were still in undergrad. “Do you only go for brunettes?” A pang went through Clarke’s stomach as she said this, but she steadfastly ignored it.

Bellamy cleared his throat, his gaze resting on Clarke before skating away. “No, Clarke, I don’t only go for brunettes.”

“Well then what’s the problem?” Clarke asked, again scooting down a place or two in line. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t let this go, but she couldn’t seem to be able to.

“What do you mean, what’s the problem? There is no problem,” he replied.

“She’s cute, Bellamy. Although now she thinks we’re together.”

“Huh?” he asked, glancing down at her.

Clarke looked pointedly at his hand, which was still on her side, pressing her against him.

“Oh. I don’t care,” he said. Clarke could swear he pulled her tighter against him.

Clarke scoffed. 

“Do _you_ want to date her, Clarke?”

“No!”

“Then that makes two of us,” he said.

By the time they collected their food and found a high top away from the chilly entrance, they’d moved onto other subjects.

They spent the next few minutes eating and discussing what was going on at their respective work places. Bellamy was excited about the project he was working on now, which included building and installing a custom bar, and Clarke was a little apprehensive about her project for the next few weeks, which involved a kidney transplant chain, wherein multiple people donated kidneys to strangers in return for other strangers donating kidneys to their family members.

“I know it sounds ridiculously complicated, and it is…we have a chart at the hospital to keep everything straight, but basically all these patients need kidneys, and they have family members or friends willing to donate to them, but they aren’t close enough genetically to be a match. So we found multiple cases like this…and matched them with other ‘couples’ that are in the same boat. We have four different pairs, each donating to a stranger and receiving from a stranger.”

“Seriously? That’s a thing?” he asked incredulously.

“Yup. It’s pretty rare, especially around here. We’re actually collaborating with a team from my Mom’s hospital. Some of the patients are going to be operated on there. We don’t have enough surgeons or operating rooms to do it all on our own. It’s going to be amazing though, Bell. Four different people are going to get the organs they desperately need.”

He smiled, seeing the excitement on her face. “And you get to help? That’s amazing, Clarke.”

“It really is.”

They just sat there for a moment, absorbing that before Bellamy reluctantly glanced at his watch.

“I’m going to go grab a piece of streusel. You want anything?” Bellamy asked, standing up.

“No, thanks.”

He nodded, heading to the back of the short line. The cashier from before seemed to have gone on break, thankfully.

Just as Clarke picked up her phone, planning to scroll through Facebook while waiting for Bellamy to return, she heard her name.

“Clarke?”

Glancing up, she found another dark-haired man standing in front of her table.

“Finn,” she said, taken aback.

“Hey,” he said, smiling cautiously.  

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Sorry, I mean…” It was a public coffee shop, after all.

Finn smiled ruefully. “You’re never going to be happy to see me, are you?”

She glanced away guiltily. “Finn…”

“I know.” His face turned serious. “I’m here because I’m going to be on the team doing the kidney transplant chain.”

“…I’m working on that too.”

“…then I guess you’ll have to deal with me for the next few weeks.”

“Finn…” her gaze searched his. “It’s fine. We’re both professionals, right? And after everything…”

“That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks to you.”

He moved a step closer. “Are you really? I kept wanting to reach out…but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me.”

“I’m doing a lot better now, honestly. And…if I didn’t do it properly before…thank you for everything.”

“Of course. Clarke…I…”

“What’s the matter Finn? Get kicked out of all the coffee shops on your side of town? Can’t say I blame them…need to keep clientele up to a certain standard, ya know,” Bellamy said, bumping his shoulder against Finn’s as he pushed past him to reclaim his seat.

“Bellamy, charming as ever, I see,” Finn said, a scowl on his face.

“Were you on your way out or were you on your way out?” Bellamy asked, his face impassive, although his tone held an edge of malice.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Pleasure as always, Blake,” he said, turning back to Clarke, a small smirk playing on his face. “See you in a few minutes, Clarke.”

With that, he left, heading in the direction of the hospital.

Bellamy turned in the direction he’d gone, then looked back at Clarke. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Clarke sighed. “He’s part of the team working with us on the transplants.”

“Shit.”

“It’s fine, Bellamy.”

“It’s not fine, Clarke. After what he did to you and Raven…”

“It was years ago. And we’re both in the same field and living in the same town. We were bound to run into each other at some point in our careers.”

“Since when do you not want him pecked to death by hungry ostriches?” At Clarke’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “yes, you seriously said that one time. I’m fairly sure it was mostly the tequila talking, but none of us were about to object.”

Clarke sighed, remembering the time immediately following Finn’s betrayal her sophomore year of undergrad. He had lied, effectively cheating on Raven with Clarke without informing anyone of his relationship status. When Clarke had run across Finn and Raven, looking entirely like a couple in the library one day, she’d left without a word. Finn had tried to make himself look like the victim, claiming that he and Raven were on shaky ground because she’d been attending another college a few hours away, so he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong by starting a new relationship with Clarke. Spring semester came around, and Raven decided to surprise her long-time boyfriend by transferring.

Since Clarke was Pre-Med, and Raven was working on a mechanical engineering degree, they both ended up in the same Calculus class, and Raven, who thought that Clarke was one of Finn’s friends, tried to befriend her.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Finn seemed to want to somehow keep both girls. Although Clarke made it extremely clear she wanted nothing to do with him, he kept trying to insinuate himself into her life, often even showing a preference for her over Raven, who he’d dated since they were children. It was these instances that finally alerted Raven to Finn’s duplicity.

Although Raven had initially been mad at Clarke too, she’d eventually realized that Finn was the only jackass in the less-than-ideal situation.

The next few months consisted of Clarke and Raven bonding, Raven officially joining their group of misfits, and more than a few dart games in which Finn’s picture was featured on the dart board.

“Like I said, that was a long time ago,” Clarke reiterated.

Bellamy was watching her, a frown marring his features. “Did I hear you thanking him for something? You don’t even talk to him anymore, do you? Clarke…you’re not…”

“…not what?”

“You’re not thinking about going back to that…that…” he seemed incapable of finding words to express the incredulity he was feeling.

“No! God,no.” Clarke assured him. “I…remember I told you I ran into him at Mom’s hospital a while ago? We were just talking about that. He…helped me out with something. It doesn’t matter now. I promise I’m not letting him back into my life. Well, at least not in any capacity except colleague for the next few weeks. But I doubt we’ll see each other all that much anyway.”

Bellamy was still slightly dubious, if the look on his face was any indication.

“Bell…seriously. You know I’d pick Raven over him every damn day of the week and twice on Sundays. I wouldn’t jeopardize my friendship with her to let a fuckboy like him back into my life.”

At that, he finally smiled. “Fuckboy, huh?”

She shrugged, grinning.

“I’ve always been partial to calling him douchebag, but I like where you’re going with this.”

She chuckled. “So…how’s that streusel?” she asked, glancing at the large piece on the table, which was still untouched.

Bellamy grinned, holding up two forks and handing her one. “You tell me.”

She tried to look surprised. “You didn’t have to get me a fork! I told you I didn’t want any,” she said, just as she broke off a large chunk.

He rolled his eyes, although he was watching her fondly. “Please, Clarke. This isn’t my first rodeo.”     


	11. Chapter 11

Clarke sighed tiredly, rubbing the back of her neck as she forced her feet to carry her into the bathroom just off her bedroom. She paused in front of the mirror, piling her hair into a bun on top of her head so she could take a quick shower and then pass out.

It was Friday afternoon, and although she’d worked a fairly normal shift today, from 7-3, the past few days had taken their toll. The hospital was basically a circus, everyone running around frantically, trying to get everything prepared for the big operations next week. That included blocking off an entire corner of one of the floors (so the family members could recuperate together), rearranging patients, hospital staff, and elective surgeries so that enough surgeons, surgical nurses, and anesthesiologists, as well as enough operating rooms, would be available, and the rest of the hospital staff was even on a “cleaning and beautification” mission (although the hospital was already spotless, of course) because multiple news crews would be coming in for press conferences and to interview the patients, as well as people in the hospital that participated somehow in the rare transplant chain.

Clarke had assisted on an appendectomy and a C-section, set two broken bones, sat with someone while they passed a kidney stone, and repainted the blue stripe on the wall in the lobby, all in an eight hour shift today. She would have just headed straight for her bed, but she had blue paint all over her forearm, plus she hoped the hot water would work out some of the kinks in her back.

Her hair sufficiently secured out of the way, Clarke reached in, turning on the shower.     

The pipes gave a terrifying groan and, after a few seconds, water started shooting everywhere.

Clarke stood there, shocked, staring in horror as water seemed to be spraying out in a never-ending torrent, hitting the ceiling, the wall opposite the shower, and even the door, which Clarke happened to be standing in front of.

“Shit,” she said, looking around quickly at the damage being done. “Shit!”

She finally sprang into action, fighting the blast of water so she could get back over to the shower, trying to turn the water off. She managed to get the handle turned back into the off position, but that unfortunately didn’t stop the deluge.

“Shit!!” she cried, backing out of the bathroom and grabbing her phone, which she’d thankfully left on the dresser in her room.

She pressed “Call” on the first name that popped into her mind.

“Hello?”

“Bellamy! You have to tell me what to do!”

“Clarke? What’s wrong??”

“There’s water everywhere, Bellamy! And I tried turning it off, but it didn’t do anything. I’m literally going to have to build an ark to get out of here!”

“Clarke! Can you move to a different room? I can hardly hear you.”

Taking a deep breath, Clarke stepped out into the hallway, where the sound of spraying water was still evident, but no longer overpowering.

Bellamy’s voice came through the phone again. “Okay. Now what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I went to turn on my shower, and water just started spraying everywhere. I mean… _everywhere_ , Bellamy. I tried turning it back off, but it didn’t shut it off. I don’t know what to do. I’m going to be swimming in here soon. Can you tell me how to turn it off?”

“Shit, Clarke.” She could hear him rubbing his hand over his face as he thought. “The shower? They usually don’t have separate shut-off valves.”

“Well that’s just great, Bellamy. Now what am I supposed to do?! Leave the house to the fish?”

“Do you know where the main shut off valve for your house is? It’s typically in the basement or on an outside wall…probably near where your hot water heaters are?”

“You do realize I have no idea what that is or how to turn it off even if I _could_ find it?” she said, exasperatedly.

“Yeah, probably. I’m actually only a few neighborhoods away…we’re working on a house over in Eagle Park. The guys are just packing up now. I can be there in like…5 minutes.”

Clarke heard the slam of a vehicle door, followed by the ignition starting.

“Five minutes, Clarke. Meet me outside, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah,” she said, as they both disconnected.

Casting a worried glance back over her shoulder at what had to be turning into something out of a disaster movie, Clarke made her way downstairs, stepping out onto the front step. It wasn’t until she stepped into the chilly air that she realized she was also drenched.

She’d pulled off her scrub top, which left her in a grey camisole and scrub bottoms. That would have been chilly enough in the cool fall air, but the water that was practically dripping off her (she was pretty sure it _was_ dripping off her hair) made it downright frigid. Still, she wasn’t willing to go back upstairs to change, afraid that she’d end up missing Bellamy and making this even worse.

Within just a few minutes, she saw his familiar grey pickup heading down her street. Racing through her front lawn (in her bare feet, no less) she met him at the curb.

“Jesus, Clarke,” he said, opening the door and hopping out. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

“I don’t care. Just make it stop!”

Shrugging out of his bulky brown work jacket, he pulled it around her shoulders before hurrying to the toolbox in the bed of his truck.

Shivering into the sudden warmth, Clarke hurriedly zipped up the coat, watching as Bellamy got out a long metal tool, then started searching her front lawn.

“What is that? And what are you looking for?”

“It’s called a meter key…and that’s what I’m looking for…the meter.”

He walked to the corner of her yard, then back just a few feet, into one of their landscape planters. Before she knew it, he’d lifted off what looked like a miniature manhole cover and was using the tool he’d brought to do something down in the ground.

“Done,” he called to her.

She walked over to him, stepping gingerly on the mulch in her bare feet so she could glance down in the hole. “Done? What did you do? I thought you said the main shut off valve was by the house?”

“It is. I didn’t want to take the time to look for it, though. This is the meter shut off valve. Does the same thing, basically.”

“So Old Faithful will have shut off in my bathroom??”

He chuckled. “There’s still water in the line from here up to your house, so it won’t shut off immediately, but it should stop soon.” He glanced up at the house. “Actually, I should run up and take a look before it stops completely, see if I can tell what’s wrong.”

Clarke gestured with her hand, indicating for him to go on ahead.

He jogged ahead, while she maintained a slower pace, practically forcing her half numb feet to carry her into the house and then up the stairs.

She found Bellamy in the doorway to her bathroom, hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage.

Hearing her approach, he turned to glance at her. “You weren’t kidding about the whole ‘flood of Biblical proportions’ thing.”

“Nope.”

He sighed, looking in the bathroom again.

The water had slowed to a mere trickle by now, but it was obvious where it had been spraying, since the wet spots were still evident on the walls and ceiling.

“So, what’s the problem, Doctor?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that your title?”

“Not when it comes to this stuff. I’m not even qualified to prescribe an aspirin in the field of home repairs, apparently.” She glanced at him. “You need to show me where that shut-off valve thingy is.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Will do. It looks like something’s wrong with the pipes in your wall though.”

Clarke leaned her head against the wall, banging into it a few times.

“Clarke, it’s fine. It can be fixed, and I have the water shut off, so it won’t do any more damage right now. We need to get some of this water mopped up though, before it does damage to the floor or the ceiling downstairs.”

At that, Clarke glanced at the bathroom floor, which contained a good inch or two of water, and it was starting to seep out onto her bedroom carpet.

“Shit!” Clarke wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to be her go-to reaction for today’s events.

Bellamy stepped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Seriously, Clarke. It’s fine. We can fix it. Just tell me where your towels are.”

“Towels…right.” She started to head into her bathroom, only to stop short. “Well, there are some in that cabinet over there,” she said, gesturing to the cabinet over the toilet. “Only a few though. I’ll go get more.”

She headed out into the hallway, stopping in both her mom’s bathroom and the main bathroom, which was usually only used by guests. She returned a few minutes later with an armful of mismatched towels, and found Bellamy in her bathroom, his jeans tucked into his work boots, gingerly laying the lilac-colored towels from her bathroom on the floor.

Something about the scene struck her and she had to turn her chuckle into a cough…or two. “Is this enough?” she asked, holding up the pile of towels.

He glanced up. “Probably. We’re going to have to keep wringing them out anyway. You either need to put on rainboots or something or else just let me do this. Your pants are going to get soaked.”

Clarke shrugged, tossing him a few towels and setting the rest on her bed. “It’s fine. It’s warm enough in here anyway, and I’m already soaked,” she said, taking off his coat and then rolling her scrubs up to her knees.

Bellamy frowned at her exposed feet when she joined him a minute later. “You’re going to catch pneumonia, Clarke, and then what? Who’s going to fix that? Literally all I can do in that department is give you aspirin.”

Clarke rolled her eyes fondly. “You can’t catch pneumonia from the cold, Bellamy. That’s an old wives’ tale. It takes a little thing called infection.”

He huffed, still clearly not pleased.

“So, is there any rhyme or reason to this or are we just going for it?” Clarke asked, glancing down at the water, which was still high enough to cover the tops of her feet.

“Just go for it.”

“Awesome,” Clarke said, throwing down the towels she’d carried in and then spreading them out.

They worked in tandem for the next half hour or so, placing towels on the floor, letting them soak up as much water as possible, and then wringing them out in the bathtub. After they’d soaked up a good portion of the water, they wrung out the small rugs that had been in there, and Clarke carried them to the main bathroom to dry in that bathtub.

On her way back, she was walking quickly and not paying attention, so she didn’t even notice that most of the water had finally been cleaned up, leaving only a few puddles and the rest of the tile floor a nice shiny, slippery mess.

Her bare feet slid out from under her, and her arms did a decent imitation of a windmill as she tried to right herself, but to no avail.

She was just about to pitch forward, onto the floor on her face, when Bellamy saw her predicament, and stepped forward, grabbing her by the waist.

Unfortunately, her momentum, and the slippery floor, pushed him back a step or two, until he ended up sitting down _hard_ on the edge of the tub, Clarke landing on his lap.

They sat there for a moment, the wind knocked out of them, before Clarke started giggling, almost hysterically.

It wasn’t long before Bellamy joined her.

Struggling to catch her breath, Clarke pressed her face into the side of his neck. “So, not only do I make you come over here, shut off my water, and help me mop up 1200 gallons of water, then I make you bruise your coccyx trying to save me too. Have I ever mentioned I’m the worst friend in the world?”  

“My what, now?”

She picked up her head, glancing at him. When she realized what he was referring to, it sent her into another round of giggles. “Coccyx, Bellamy. Your tailbone.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that?” he asked, face slightly red.

“Sorry. Blame Med School,” she joked. “Seriously though, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yep. Thanks for catching me, by the way.”

“Just one of the many services I provide, Clarke.”

“I see that,” she said, smiling.

He tightened his grip on her waist, helping her stand up. “Careful,” he cautioned.

Clarke made sure she had her footing before moving, then watched him stand gingerly, wincing as he straightened to his full height.

She tried not to smirk, considering she knew exactly which part of him was currently in pain and why he didn’t want to talk about it.

“This is good for now, right?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy glanced around, placing a few more towels on the ground where the puddles remained. “Should be, why?”

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the bathroom. “I need a beer.”

They ended up in the living room, beers in hand, before they realized they were both drenched.

Neither one felt like facing the wrath of Abby Griffin if they ruined her couch, so they stretched out on the large area rug in front of the fire place.

Clarke downed half of her beer before setting it to the side and lying back, chuckling. “Seriously, who did I piss off in a past life to get this kind of Karma?”

Bellamy joined her, turning to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“I was literally going to take the world’s shortest shower because I was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep. It was all because of this stupid blue paint,” she said, turning her arm to show it to him, except…it was gone.

She started laughing. “Well…I guess all of this did serve some purpose after all. You know…the most time consuming, most expensive, most tiring way to get paint off your arm,” she joked, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “Everything has to be difficult, doesn’t it?”

“Seems that way, sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Clarke mumbled something unintelligible, pressing her feet under his thigh.

“Jesus Christ, Clarke!” he almost shouted, since they felt like ice cubes, even through his jeans.

She chuckled, but made no attempt to move them.

“I _told you_ to put on shoes,” he grumbled, but he took them between his hands anyway, rubbing them to warm them quicker.

Clarke smiled against his shoulder, looking up at him. “Did I ever tell you that you’re the best friend anyone’s had, ever?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, until her feet no longer felt like blocks of ice and they both had a chance to recover from the marathon mopping and wringing competition upstairs. 

“I would just tell you to come home with me, but I assume your mom will be home at some point and expect her house to have running water?”

“Yeah, probably,” Clarke said, frowning.

“Come on,” he said, sitting up. “Let’s go to Lowe’s.”

“Bell, you don’t have to do anything else. You’ve already done too much. I’ll have her call a plumber or whatever.”

He scoffed. “You did not just insult me like that.”

Clarke grinned, sitting up as well. “We can’t go to the store like this,” she said, glancing at their clothes.

“So go change,” he said. “I don’t have a choice though.”

Clarke considered it for a moment. “Actually, you do,” she said, glancing over him again as she stood up. “Your jeans aren’t that bad, are they?”

“No, they’re okay. It’s just my shirt,” he said, pulling the long-sleeved t-shirt away from where it was clinging to his body.

Clarke nodded, trying not to react to the sight that made, heading into the half bath off the living room and grabbing a clean hand towel.

She tossed it to him. “Here, take your shirt off and dry off. I’ll bring you something to wear.” 

Running upstairs, she quickly changed into a pair of leggings and a long, tunic length thermal shirt, pulling on a pair of warm socks and her favorite riding boots.

She headed quickly to her closet, moving things around till she found what she was looking for, grabbing it off the hanger, and heading into the hallway.

Remembering that she’d left Bellamy’s jacket laying on her bed, she returned for that, then jogged down the stairs.

When she got to the entrance to the living room, she stopped short.

Bellamy was standing with his back to her, his shirt off as he shook his head, trying to make sure the water was out of his hair. With that, he ran the towel across the back of his neck.

Clarke stood there, a little dumbstruck, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he moved.

“Clarke?”

Blinking, Clarke glanced up, realizing that, at some point during her momentary loss of brain function, he’d turned slightly to glance at her.

“Yeah…sorry,” she said, stepping further into the room and holding out the shirt that was in her hand. “Here.”

That turned out to be a giant mistake, as Bellamy turned around fully to face her, giving her an unobstructed view of his chest…and his arms…and his abs...

This was getting ridiculous. She knew Bellamy was strong…his work required it and she’d seen how strong he was on numerous occasions…of course that meant he was muscular. Hell, she’d even seen him with his shirt off before…at the gym, at the lake, at the pool…

But there was just something about him wearing jeans but no shirt, his hair slightly damp, standing in her living room and looking at her like he sometimes looked at her… 

“Here,” she said, a little roughly, thrusting the shirt at him.

He took it, glancing down curiously, his brow furrowed.

It was a tan flannel button down shirt. Weirdly enough, it actually looked like something he’d have in his own closet.

“…is this your dad’s?” he asked cautiously.

“Yup.”

“Clarke, I don’t have to…I can just put this back on,” he said, holding up the damp shirt in his other hand. “Or we can put it in the dryer for a minute before we leave. No big deal.”

Clarke realized that he was still looking at her carefully, and that his hesitance to wear the shirt probably stemmed from her reaction a moment ago-she’d been pissed off that she couldn’t stop staring at her best friend like some kind of creep, and he’d probably interpreted it as ‘I don’t really want you to wear my dad’s shirt.’

“You’re not getting pneumonia on my watch, Bellamy,” she said, tongue in cheek.

Getting the joke, he relaxed slightly, holding the flannel shirt up again. “Are you sure? I understand if you don’t want anyone else wearing this.”

“Unless…” she paused, a new thought occurring to her. “Does it freak you out or something?”

“What?” he frowned. “No, of course not.”

“Then there’s no one else I’d rather have wear it.”

He nodded, slipping into the shirt and buttoning it.

Seeing him in it sent a pang of nostalgia through Clarke…as well as an odd sort of longing for something she didn’t quite know how to name.

“I wish…I wish you could’ve met him,” she said softly. “Or…I wish he could’ve met you. Both, I guess,” she admitted, looking up at Bellamy.

“Me too, Clarke,” he said sincerely.

They stood there for a moment in silence, thinking about that.

“Lowe’s?” Clarke asked.

“Lowe’s,” Bellamy replied.


	12. Chapter 12

“I could actually eat a horse,” Clarke said, unlocking the front door and holding it open for Bellamy, who was carrying the McDonald’s bag.

“Did you forget to eat lunch again?” Bellamy asked, a disapproving frown on his face.

“No,” Clarke said, matter-of-fact.

“Clarke.”

“I didn’t forget!” she said. “…but I didn’t have time to eat.”

He continued frowning at her as they moved through the hallway towards the kitchen. 

“It’s fine. I’d probably weigh 400 pounds if I wasn’t running around all the time. It’s not like I have time to work out anymore.”

“You do realize you’re just making me worry more, right? I’m going to start following you around and throwing food at you every few hours.”

She laughed, because she could pretty much picture him doing just that. “I will eat this entire Big Mac, I promise…all the fries too. Just so you don’t blow a gasket.” She turned around to face him, walking backwards into the kitchen as she teased him, “they haven’t taught us how to fix those yet.”

Bellamy’s gaze went over her head, toward the other side of the kitchen. “Mrs. Griffin,” he said.

Clarke’s eyebrows rose as she turned around to find her mother leaning against the kitchen counter. “Mom!”

“Clarke. Bellamy,” she said, nodding at him. “What happened?”

Clarke glanced at the note she’d left on the white board on the fridge. It read ‘Water is turned off. At Lowe’s with Bellamy. Explain later.’

She proceeded to explain what had happened with the shower in her bathroom, and how Bellamy had raced over to help her.

“It looks like something is wrong with the pipes in the wall, not just the shower head, but I won’t know until I cut out a piece of drywall so I can see back there.”

Abby looked at him a little warily. “You don’t need to trouble yourself, Bellamy. We can call a plumber or a contractor to fix it.”

Bellamy just looked at her, face a little tense.

Clarke looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on. “Bellamy said he’d be happy to fix it for us, Mom.”

“I think it would be better to call a professional, Clarke.”

Bellamy didn’t even try to hide his less than humorous snort.

“Mom!”

“Clarke, you don’t have to…” Bellamy began.

“He _is_ a ‘professional’ and you already know that. He’s also the foreman for Miller Contracting’s biggest crew now. He is _literally_ the best there is and he’s offering to fix this for us, and on a weekend.” Clarke frowned at the woman across the room. “Why are you being like this?”

Abby was staring at the man standing beside her daughter. “You got promoted to foreman?” she asked, with a grudging amount of respect.

“Last year,” Bellamy answered, a slight edge of hostility to his voice.

It was well known that Miller Contracting was the best construction crew in town, and David Miller was famous for running a tight ship with good employees who did great work. Bellamy had been working for him the entire time Clarke had known him, which Abby knew, given that she’d seen and interacted with Bellamy multiple times over the years.

Abby continued to stare at Bellamy with a less than friendly gaze. “We’ll pay time and a half, of course, since it’s the weekend,” she said grudgingly.

Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest. “Clarke doesn’t pay for favors.”

“Yes, well, Clarke isn’t paying. I am.”

“Clarke doesn’t pay for favors,” he repeated, his tone even firmer.

Abby let out a huff, ready to argue again.

“I’ll keep my receipts. You’ll reimburse me for the supplies, but that’s it.”

Clarke watched as they engaged in a stare-off for a few more seconds, until Abby finally nodded grudgingly.

She turned to Clarke as she picked up her briefcase. “I just had to come home to pick up a few files and change for the board meeting tonight. I have a shift after, so I won’t be back until morning.” She turned briskly to Bellamy. “I trust we’ll have running water by then?”

He nodded, arms still crossed over his chest.

With a nod, she went out the back door toward the garage, calling out, “See you tomorrow, Clarke,” over her shoulder.    

“Bye, Mom,” Clarke responded, turning to Bellamy as soon as the door shut. “What the hell was that about?!” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked, opening the McDonald’s bag and pulling out two orders of fries.

Clarke’s eyes widened even further. “What do you mean, ‘what do I mean?’ You two just had a stand-off in the kitchen over plumbing issues. What the fuck?”

Bellamy shrugged, pulling out two Big Mac boxes and setting them beside the fries. “I don’t know, Clarke. She just doesn’t like me. You know she’s never thought I was good enough,” he said, sitting on one of the stools at the large island.

Clarke frowned, taking the seat beside him. “That’s not true, Bellamy.”

“It is. You just didn’t want to see it.”

She studied him, unsure of where this was coming from. “Bellamy, she invited you and Octavia to our house for every major holiday for like five years in a row.”

“All rich people like to feel like they’re doing something charitable every once in a while, especially around the holidays,” he said, seemingly unconcerned as he took a bite of his hamburger.

Clarke was so taken aback, she was fairly sure she actually physically recoiled. “Bellamy…you don’t think that’s why…you don’t think that I…” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to smack him for his idiocy or hug him if he really felt that way. “You’re not a charity case. That’s not why I…Jesus, Bellamy.”

He finally looked at her. “I didn’t say that about _you_ , Clarke. I said your mom felt that way.”

“Bellamy…she wanted you guys here. Honestly, I think she was really just glad that I had good friends again. After Wells died…it’s not like I brought that many people around after that.”

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally.

Clarke tried to remember the last time her Mom and Bellamy had been around each other. If she remembered correctly, it was around a year and a half ago, for Easter dinner. Although they’d never seemed overly fond of each other, they’d always gotten along well enough, and Clarke didn’t remember anything happening during their last interaction that would’ve changed that.

“I just…I have no idea where this is coming from,” she tried again.

He finally managed a small smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just reverting back to that teenager with a chip on his shoulder. Don’t worry about it, Clarke.” He nudged her food toward her. “Didn’t you promise me something about how much of this ridiculously unhealthy food you were going to eat?”

Clarke picked up her burger, but found most of her appetite had disappeared.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy stepped out of the shower, wiping his hands on the rag he’d brought in with his tool box a while ago. There was currently a hunk of drywall cut out, exposing the pipes and the studs in the wall.

“It looks like you had a slow leak at one of the joints and it just let loose when you turned the shower on today, for some reason,” he said, stopping in front of Clarke, who was standing in the doorway between her bedroom and bathroom.

“So…what now?” she asked, glancing around him at the damage.

“I capped off the pipe, so we can turn the water back on. I’d like to leave the wall open for a week or so to make sure it dries completely. Then I’ll put new pipe in, patch the drywall, and install a new shower head. You can use one of the other showers until then, right?”

Clarke nodded.

“Or, you could always just come stay with me,” he said, almost as an aside.

She smiled. “We have two other showers and Mom and I are rarely home at the same time anyway. I think I’ll be okay.”

He shrugged, moving to walk around her. “Offer still stands.”

“I know. Thank you,” she said, putting her hand on his back just as he moved past her, and then setting her chin on top of his shoulder when he paused. “Thank you for all this.”

He turned his head to the side, nodding. “Any time, Clarke.”

They stayed that way for a minute until he finally cleared his throat, taking a step forward. “I’ll turn the water back on, then come up to make sure everything’s okay. Be right back.”

Clarke nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her bed while she waited.

In a few minutes, he came back upstairs, walking directly into the bathroom.

She followed, leaning against the door frame as she watched him take a look at the pipes in the wall, then turn on her sink.

“Everything looks good,” he said, turning off the sink and leaning against the counter to look at her.

She nodded.

“I’ll get going then,” he said.

Clarke had some sort of a reaction to that…as in, she didn’t want him to. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced at her watch. “You know…it’s getting late.”

“Which is why I should head home.”

“Or…you could just stay here.”

His eyebrows raised a little in surprise.

“It’s a long drive, you know. And you’re tired. And I’ve got a perfectly good bed right here…a few of them, actually,” she said, smirking a little as she made sure to use the same reasons he usually used to get her to stay at his place.

“Clarke…I’m not really comfortable staying here,” he admitted.

Her brow furrowed. “Why? I stay with you all the time.”

“It’s not that. Just…your mom…it’s her house and…” he shrugged, looking away a little uncomfortably.

Clarke still wasn’t sure where this sudden hostility between Bellamy and her mom was coming from, but she resolved to get to the bottom of it at some point. But for now… “Actually…” she said, eyes twinkling, a bit of a playful lilt to her voice.

“What?”

“I don’t think I ever told you this…but this house is actually half mine.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened in surprise.

She nodded. “My dad left his half to me. So, you see…as long as you stay in the half of the house that belongs to me…”

One side of his mouth lifted in that trademark smirk. “What did you do? Put duct tape down the middle?”

“No. But that sounds like a great plan for tonight,” she joked.

“Clarke…” he said, still sounding uncertain.

“She’s not going to be here anyway, Bellamy. I’ll be all alone in this giant house,” she said, and if she sounded a little needy, she didn’t really care; she wanted him with her.

He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite name. “You could just come home with me,” he said softly, and damn if Clarke didn’t have to remind herself to start breathing again, forcing herself to remember that he didn’t mean that the way it had sounded.

Truth be told, she’d rather go back to Bellamy’s. She often found herself much more comfortable there…but then she’d have to ask herself why she would go to all that trouble just to spend more time with him. As long as he stayed at her house, then she could claim it was for safety and practicality’s sakes.

She also wasn’t above pissing her Mom off every now and again, and if Abby and Bellamy found themselves in some sort of pissing contest…she couldn’t help but take Bellamy’s side, given everything.

“Yes, but if you stay here long enough in the morning, maybe my Mom’s face will do that thing again,” she teased.

“The thing where she looked like she’d just eaten a lemon when she finally accepted my offer to help?”

“Yup. That’s the one.”

He chuckled, closing his eyes for a minute. When he opened them again, he smiled at her…the smile that reminded her of a little boy that was about to unapologetically get into trouble. It was one of her favorite Bellamy expressions. “I could go for another beer. It has kind of been a long day,” he said, and Clarke knew that was his way of giving himself an excuse to stay.

She smiled, a sparkle in her eyes. “You know…we have bourbon downstairs.”

He chuckled again, gesturing with an outstretched arm. “Lead the way.”

They ended up on the back deck, huddled together under a big blanket, fancy glasses of bourbon in hand.

“The commute to the city would suck…but it might be worth it for this view,” Bellamy said, staring out at the landscape in front of him.

Clarke followed his gaze, the moonlight illuminating the woods directly in front of them and allowing just a glimpse of the river at the bottom of the valley. She’d grown up here, so she didn’t often notice it, but she could imagine how different it felt for Bellamy, who’d grown up in tiny apartments and had never lived outside the city. Given how much he enjoyed hiking, camping, and basically every other outdoor activity, she could see how he’d probably feel more comfortable in a place like this.

“I’ve never really thought about it, but yeah, I guess it was nice growing up here. Having some…space?”

He nodded. “I don’t think the ‘burbs are for me…but maybe a little house somewhere on a quiet street…somewhere you can hear yourself think. Hell, maybe I’ll build it myself.”

She nudged his shoulder under the blanket. “Bell, that would be amazing.”

He continued staring out at the trees. “I’d get Miller to help me. Murphy, too. Bastard does the best damn tile work I’ve ever seen.”

Clarke smiled at the grudging respect that was somehow mixed with disgust in his voice.

Bellamy finally turned to look at her, his expression slightly sheepish. “Must be the bourbon getting to me,” he said, taking another swig.

“Bell…don’t do that,” she said, hating that the light had gone out of his eyes when he thought he was reaching for something unattainable.

“What? It’s a pipe dream, Clarke. People like me don’t get things like that,” he muttered, looking back out at the woods, although it wasn’t with the reverence of before.

She grasped his arm. “It’s not a pipe dream, Bellamy. And don’t sell yourself short,” she commanded, voice firm as she tried to get him to see the potential in himself that she saw. “You’re making decent money now, aren’t you?”

He shrugged.

“And I know you, you’re saving and investing every spare penny, right?”

Bellamy was unflinchingly generous when it came to others, especially his sister, but after the way he’d grown up, he was loathe to spend any unnecessary money on himself.

He shrugged again.

She clenched his arm tighter, forcing him to look at her. “Stop that. You have a great job, you work ridiculously hard, and you’re making good money. Keep saving like you already do anyway, and you can probably do it in a few years. You’re not that kid anymore, Bellamy. Don’t keep telling yourself that you can’t have things…because you can.”

“Not everything, Clarke.”

“Why not?”

“Some things will always be just out of reach for someone like me,” he said, and she knew they weren’t just talking about a house anymore.

“No, they won’t,” she insisted. “They aren’t.”

He shook his head, staring down at the liquid in his glass.

“Why?” she asked.

“What if it changes everything?” he asked quietly.

“What if it makes everything better?” she countered, just as quietly.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, him staring at the bourbon in his glass and her staring at him, until a shiver worked its way through her.

He finally glanced at her. “It’s too cold out here,” he said, draining his glass. “We should go in.”

She followed suit, leading them inside.

They deposited their empty glasses in the kitchen, then walked down the hallway toward the staircase.

When Clarke’s foot was on the first step, Bellamy’s voice rang out behind her.

“I can just go,” he said, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m fine to drive.”

Clarke turned around, hand on her hip.

They engaged in something of a stare-down for a few seconds, until he finally relented.

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing up the stairs.

She turned, hiding her grin as she led him upstairs and down the hallway to one of their spare bedrooms.

“So you’ve got a queen size bed, a tv, and a decent view of the backyard,” she said, turning on the light and stepping inside to make sure everything was ready for him. “Not to mention…I’ve now officially chosen this room as part of my half of the house, so you’re firmly on Clarke territory here,” she joked.

“It’s great, Clarke. Thanks.”

She nodded.

“Do you care if I take a shower?”

“Of course not. Let me go see if we have a dry towel left somewhere in this house.”

Clarke headed down to the laundry room where, thankfully, there were a couple towels that had just been washed and no one had bothered to put away yet. Remembering that she’d put Bellamy’s wet shirt in the dryer a while ago, Clarke grabbed it too.

She walked back into the guest room, handing Bellamy one of the towels and his shirt. “There should be soap and shampoo and whatever else in there. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks,” he said, walking down the hallway toward the main bathroom.

Clarke watched him go, covering a huge yawn just as he shut the door.

Deciding to wait for him, she grabbed the remote, sitting down on the bed as she flipped through the channels, finding the network they usually watched.

Her eyes started going shut just as Jeannie blinked herself into her bottle in an attempt to hide from Dr. Bellows.

She forced her eyes partway open a few minutes later when she felt someone pulling the covers over her.

“Go back to sleep,” Bellamy whispered.

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes again until she heard him walking away from the bed. “Where are you going?”

“Well, I found Goldilocks asleep in my bed, so…”

She huffed, turning back the covers. “Come on, Grumpy Bear.”

He walked back over to the bed, staring down at her. “You’re mixing your fairy tales, Clarke.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled again, still holding back the covers.

“You sure?”

“Bel. La. My.” She said, drawing out each syllable as her eyes drifted back shut.

She finally felt him get in bed next to her, laying on his back a good foot away.

Grumbling, she scooted closer, nudging against him until his arm surrounded her.

“Night, Bell,” she murmured, head on his chest.

“Night, Clarke.”


	13. Chapter 13

Clarke woke up to a familiar warmth surrounding her, smiling as she stretched a little. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes that she realized that although Bellamy was curled up beside her, they weren’t on his couch.

Glancing at the ceiling and the bit of room she could see, it took her sleep-fogged brain a minute to realize they were at her house in a spare bedroom.

A sleepy smile crossed her face when she realized that even though they were in a queen-sized bed with more than enough room to stretch out, they’d still woken up tangled together, although more room had afforded them the opportunity to try sleeping in a new position; Clarke was laying on her back, while Bellamy was on his stomach, but his arm was still curled around her, holding firmly to her hip. Clarke had apparently decided it was a good idea to sort of hug his arm where it laid across her torso. 

Their heads were turned toward each other on the pillows, and only a few inches apart, which Clarke noticed just a moment before Bellamy’s eyes opened.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” he responded, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

They laid there for a moment, as if in some sort of trance, just staring at each other.

Clarke contemplated how easy it would be for her to lean forward, just a few inches, and place her mouth on his. It would be so easy for her to turn on her side, for Bellamy to do the same, and for their bodies to be against each other in all the right places as they kissed.

She wasn’t sure…she may have even started moving toward him…until she suddenly wondered what his reaction would be.

She was _almost_ positive he wouldn’t respond badly. After all, he was a red-blooded male, and she was aware he found her attractive, at least on some level. But what if he didn’t think of her as anything other than a friend…a sister, even?

Her mind flashed back to their conversation last night. _“What if it changes everything?”_ he’d asked.

What if it did? Maybe he would be opposed…and then things would be awkward between them. Or…what if he wasn’t opposed…but saw it as some sort of ‘friends-with-benefits’ sort of situation?

Clarke didn’t think she could handle either of those outcomes.

Or…even worse…what if they did try a romantic relationship, and it just didn’t work?

They’d be forced back into being nothing in each other’s lives, and Clarke _knew_ she couldn’t handle that; he meant too much to her.

So, when every part of her wanted to lean forward, she forced herself to slide away from him, scooting out from under his arm.

“I’m going to go shower. Go back to sleep for a few minutes if you want.”

She barely waited to see his nod before grabbing the last towel in the house off the dresser and practically sprinting down the hallway to her bedroom, getting clean clothes before she came back out to the hall bathroom.

It wasn’t until she’d already used the bathroom, turned on the shower, and started undressing that she remembered she didn’t have a razor in this bathroom.

Sighing, she slipped her leggings back on and decided she might as well grab the good conditioner from her bathroom too while she was in there.

Opening the door, she headed for her room, pausing when she heard voices in the foyer just below her.

Frowning, she tiptoed over to the railing, looking down to find her mom and Bellamy both downstairs, standing a few feet away from each other and looking none too pleased.

“Why are you still here?” her Mom asked.

Even from a floor away, Clarke could see Bellamy’s jaw lock. “Clarke asked me to stay.”

“Did she ask you to do laundry, too?” Abby asked, referring to the laundry basket he was carrying, which was full of the wet towels from yesterday.

“No, but I thought I’d take care of them while she was in the shower.”

Abby’s lips pursed. “I wasn’t aware you two were…seeing each other.”

“Seeing each other?”

“Romantically,” Abby said, grudgingly.

Bellamy was already shaking his head. “We’re…not.”

Abby’s gaze flitted away from his. “Or…whatever you kids call it.” She held up a hand. “And yes, I know my daughter is an adult and her sex life is none of my business.”

Bellamy’s feet shuffled slightly in agitation. “No, it’s not. But we’re not…anything. Don’t worry, your little girl is safe from the likes of me,” Bellamy practically spat, his face hard as he went to move around Abby, headed apparently for the laundry room.

Clarke frowned, confused by his comment and ready to go downstairs and ask what in the world was really going on. She stopped when she saw her mom put a hand to her forehead and turn around.

“Bellamy, wait.”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“I was…out of line…before,” Abby admitted reluctantly.

Bellamy finally turned to face her. “Which time?” he asked sarcastically.

Abby snorted. “Fine, I deserve that. Before…when you came to see me. I was wrong.”

“You were.”

“About everything?” Abby asked, and it was the first time neither of them seemed angry; Abby looked inquisitive while Bellamy looked uncomfortable.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said reluctantly, as if it was some sort of admission.

Abby chewed on the inside of her cheek, contemplating that for a moment before apparently deciding to let it go. “She’s been…better…the last couple months…more like herself. I assume that’s because of you?”

He shrugged.

Abby stood there for a minute, nodding before heading into the living room.

Clarke watched Bellamy head in the opposite direction, toward the laundry room, then she went back in the bathroom, turning the shower off and waiting.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps going past the door and peeked out. When she saw it was Bellamy, she slipped out of the bathroom, following him into the guest room and pulling the door shut behind them.

He turned around, surprised. “Clarke! I thought you were showering?”

“I was about to, but I forgot something in my room. I came back out and heard you and my Mom downstairs.”

His eyes widened a little. “…how much did you hear?”

“Pretty much all of it. Seriously, what the hell is going on?”

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t matter, Clarke.”

“Bellamy…I need to know why my best friend and my mother can barely stand to be in the same room and what you were talking about…’before’?”

He studied the floor somewhere near her feet.

“I need to know. And if you won’t tell me…I’ll have to ask her. But I still don’t trust her, Bellamy.” She took a step toward him, her eyes beseeching. “I’d rather hear it from you.”

His eyes finally met hers, giving in. “You remember when I found you…when I asked you to come back?” he asked, uncomfortable.

Clarke nodded. Of course she remembered. It had been a few weeks after she’d abruptly moved out of the apartment she shared with Octavia and gone MIA. Everyone had tried to get in touch with her, leaving dozens of texts and voicemails…but probably no one more so than Bellamy.

And one night, he’d given up on using the phone and come to see her in person. She wasn’t sure how he’d known where to find her…probably from Murphy…but he’d walked into the bar that Lexa practically ran, which had earned him dozens of terrifying looks from the less than hospitable people that Lexa surrounded herself with.

He’d marched straight to her, even though he practically had to run the gauntlet to do so, and asked to speak to her privately.

She’d wanted to refuse, but she also didn’t like the looks he was receiving from others in the bar, so she’d agreed, going outside with him.

By the time they’d stopped outside the bar, the sidewalk seemed to be swaying back and forth like a piece of playground equipment, which made sense, given that she was both drunk and high, as she tended to be during that time period.

_“Jesus Christ, Clarke, are you high??”_

_“What do you want, Bellamy? You shouldn’t be here.”_

_“Neither should you, Clarke.”_

_She rolled her eyes. “I’m really not in the mood for a lecture. Why don’t you just go home so I can go back inside.”_

_“Why don’t you come with me?”_

_“I don’t want to.”_

_“Why?? Why did you leave in the first place?”_

_She shrugged. “I didn’t want to be there anymore.”_

_“Clarke…I know you’re going through something…I know you’re hurting…but we can help you. Octavia, Raven, Jasper, Monty…we all just want to help you.”_

_“I don’t need help,” she said stubbornly, staring resolutely at the wall beside Bellamy’s shoulder._

_“Clarke…don’t do this.”_

_“I’m just done, Bellamy.”_

_“What do you mean you’re done? You can’t just…we’re family, Clarke.”_

_At that, she snorted. “Fuck family, Bellamy.”_

_He looked taken aback. “Clarke…what’s_ wrong _??”_

_She finally looked at him, though it was with something like a challenge in her eyes. “My mom killed my dad…There, is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”_

_“What do you mean??”_

_“You really want to make me repeat it? Fine. My. Mom. Killed. My. Dad.” she said, enunciating each word like he was a child or a simpleton._

_He looked a mixture of crestfallen and confused. “Clarke…I don’t understand. I thought your dad died in a car accident. Your mom wasn’t even with him…was she?”_

_“It’s her fault he’s dead!!” she shouted._

_He took a step toward her, “Clarke…I don’t…” he shook his head. “What do you want to do? Do you want to go to the police? Do you want to go confront her? Talk to me. Let me_ help _you.”_

_She was shaking her head. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want anything from you, except for you to leave me alone.”_

_“Clarke, you don’t mean that. You’re hurting, and I get that, but now isn’t the time to turn your back on the people who love you.”_

_“I’m not the same person I was a month ago, Bellamy. I don’t belong there anymore.”_

_He frowned, getting in her face in his frustration. “So you belong here instead?! You belong in a seedy bar on the wrong side of town with a bunch of drug dealers and…Jesus Christ, Clarke, what…a gang?!”_

_She rolled her eyes. “They’re not a gang. And yes, maybe this is exactly where I belong.”_

_“Clarke, if you want to hate your mom…that’s one thing. But why are you cutting the rest of us out? We didn’t do anything to deserve this.”_

_She shrugged. “I don’t want to be there. I don’t belong there.” She started to turn around, presumably to head back inside. “Just leave me alone, Bellamy.”_

_He grabbed her arm, turning her back around. He went for a last-ditch effort, changing tactics. “Clarke…you can’t just run away and expect us to be okay with it. We need you in our lives.”_

_She tugged against his hold. “No you don’t.”_

_“Yes, we do. Octavia has never_ had _a friend like you. Did you know she refers to you as her sister? She’s completely lost without you, Clarke. Lincoln is talking about reenlisting in a few months and she’s trying so hard to keep it together…but she needs you.”_

_Clarke had resumed staring at the wall over his shoulder. “She doesn’t need me. She has you.”_

_“Clarke…” he sighed, then locked his jaw, as if he’d come to some sort of decision. He stepped even closer to her, still holding on to her arm. “What if_ I _need you?”_

_Her eyes swung to meet his, widening slightly, even as she insisted, “You don’t.”_

_He nodded. “I do. I need you, Clarke. I can’t…I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Come back with me._ Please _…come back with me?”_

_She looked conflicted for the first time since he’d seen her, her eyes searching his as she seemed to waiver, but she eventually forced herself back into line, pulling her arm out of his grasp. “I can’t, Bellamy. Go home.”_

_“Clarke…” he began, reaching for her again._

_Just then, Lexa stepped outside, along with one of her ‘non-gang’ members, who looked about as friendly as a rabid dog._

_Clarke spared him one last glance. “Don’t come looking for me again, Bellamy. I’m not going back.” She glanced at the goon standing beside Lexa. “And I can’t promise that I can protect you if you come back here again, so just don’t.”_

_Bellamy had watched her go back inside with her new ‘friends,’ then promptly kicked a parking meter._

Present-day Clarke reached out to Bellamy, placing her hand on his forearm. “God, Bell, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean those things I said. I just…I was so determined to be angry and I couldn’t let you fix me. But I never should have…”

He placed his hand on hers, smiling sadly. “I know, Clarke, it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ , but we can talk about that later. What happened with my mother?”

He released her hand, stepping away from her to sit on the foot of the bed. “After that…after I saw how far gone you were…I was so worried…” He glanced at her quickly before looking away again, almost guiltily. “I went to see your mom.”

Clarke’s face registered her surprise, but after she thought about it for a second, she realized the logic behind his actions. “Okay. And?”

“…she was about as receptive to me as you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess she was feeling guilty and angry and whatever else too…because she was sort of a bitch about it.”

Clarke sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. “What did she say?”

He let his elbows rest on his knees, clasping his hands and letting them hang as he hunched over. “I was trying to ask her what was wrong with you and, most importantly, what the plan was to get you back. She didn’t appreciate my interference, apparently.”

Clarke again placed her hand on his forearm. “What did she do, Bellamy?”

“Basically said that it was none of my business, and that maybe…if I’d been a better friend…you wouldn’t have run away in the first place.”

“Shit.” She paused, staring at the floor for a minute as she processed. Then, she stood up. “Shit!”

Bellamy watched her warily.

She leaned down, grabbing his hand and pulling. “Come on.”

He resisted her efforts, holding her in place. “Clarke…what are you doing?”

“She’s not allowed to treat you like that. Especially when she couldn’t be more wrong,” she said vehemently.

“I don’t want to cause more trouble between you and your mom. That’s the last thing I want. Just…let it go. It’s fine.”

“It is NOT fine.”

“She sort of apologized anyway…”

Clarke snorted. “That was _not_ an apology.”

“Clarke…don’t…” Bellamy shook his head. “Just leave it alone.”

“I’m going to talk to her. You can either come with me or not,” she said, pursing her lips stubbornly.

Bellamy sighed, finally standing up and reluctantly allowing her to lead him downstairs.

When they rounded the corner into the living room, Abby looked up, glancing at the couple, then down at their hands, which were still joined.

Clarke wasted no time in getting to it. “Did you seriously try to tell Bellamy that it was his fault I left?!”

Abby looked taken aback by her daughter’s question. “Clarke…I…”

“Never mind. I already know that you did. You know why? Because _he_ told me…very reluctantly, I’ll have you know. You know why? Because he didn’t want to give us anything else to fight about, because Lord knows we have enough problems between us as it is. But I just couldn’t understand why you were treating him like shit when he’s never been anything but good to both of us, so I made him tell me.”

Abby looked warily at Bellamy. “Clarke, we shouldn’t be discussing this in front of anyone.”

Clarke laughed humorlessly. “Bellamy already knows everything.”

Abby frowned. “Clarke!”

She took a deep breath and grasped Bellamy’s hand tighter, her next words calmer. “You _are_ aware of the reason I left, correct?”

Looking away guiltily, Abby replied, “Yes.”

“You do know that _you_ were the only person I actually wanted to be away from, right?”

“But, Clarke…I’ve never understood why you left your friends too. Why didn’t you go to them? You would have been…safer…with them.”

Clarke glanced up at Bellamy, smiling sadly before she turned back to her mom. “Do you realize that I’ve been an adult since I was 12 years old? First, there was Wells dying, then there was you and Jaha becoming bosom buddies and our house being turned into a laboratory, then there was Dad moving out…then there was Dad _dying_ …and I _‘kept my chin up_ ’ for all of it. I didn’t let it distract me from my homework or let it drive me to teenage rebellion…I didn’t cry in public or melt-down or go to a shrink for anti-depressants…all of which would have been completely normal reactions, by the way. No, instead I kept going. I took care of everyone else. But this…it was too much. I had so much guilt and anger and _betrayal_ inside me…and I didn’t want to force it down. I wanted to _revel_ in it. I _needed_ to.”

She looked back at Bellamy. “The reason I ran away from my friends…specifically from Bellamy…is because I knew he would make me feel better. He would’ve held me while I cried and listened to me while I screamed and told me everything was going to be okay. I would have felt better…like maybe the world wasn’t ending…and I didn’t want that. So really…I didn’t run away from him because he wasn’t a good enough friend. I ran away from him because he was _too good of a friend_.”

Abby absorbed this speech, her gaze flitting back and forth between Clarke and Bellamy, before she finally nodded. “I was…upset…and trying to place blame somewhere…anywhere else, which was totally unfair. I hope you’ll forgive me…both of you.”

Clarke watched her mom, and while her apology seemed sincere enough, she wasn’t sure her mother realized the magnitude of what Bellamy meant to Clarke…and just how wrong she’d been.

“I hate that you did that…but what I really don’t understand is…why were you so hostile toward him now??”

Abby did have the decency to look ashamed now. “I guess I just didn’t want to admit how selfish I’d been.”

Bellamy discreetly tugged on Clarke’s hand, which was still grasping his. “Thank you for apologizing, Mrs. Griffin.” He nodded his head towards the stairs, “Clarke…”

She glanced at him, shaking her head, then looking back at her mom. “Mom…I need…” She paused, trying to figure out what she wanted to say to get her point across. “I need you to understand how important he is to me.”

Abby again glanced down at their joined hands. “I think I’m beginning to.”

Clarke shook her head. She needed to impart just how serious she was about this. “I just…you understand that I’m still dealing with a lot, right? I’m not over what happened…I don’t think I’ll ever be over it…and this internship is kicking my ass…and trying to rebuild some sort of a relationship with you…it’s all so _hard_.”

“I know,” her mom admitted.

“Bellamy…he’s…” she paused again, trying to figure out how exactly to say it. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she loved him, but that would be awkward; plus, she wasn’t sure if it was sufficient to communicate the magnitude of what he was to her. “He’s…the best part of my life. He takes care of me and he goes out of his way to make me feel better and he just…being around him makes me _happy_ …even though I don’t deserve any of it, given how I treated him.”

At this, Bellamy squeezed her hand.

She continued, “And I need him to feel comfortable coming over here, so I need you to…stop. I…” She glanced at him again, seeing the tumultuousness written on his face. “He’s my family,” she finished simply.

A myriad of emotions were passing across Abby’s face, including pain at the unspoken part of Clarke’s declaration, ‘He’s my family… _and you’re not._ ’

Clarke wasn’t sure she’d meant that so absolutely, but the fact was, she trusted Bellamy completely, without reservation, and she knew she could depend on him, no matter what. She couldn’t say the same thing about her mom…not anymore.

They all stood there, glancing uncomfortably at each other.

Finally, Abby walked over to where Clarke and Bellamy were standing. She looked up at the man her daughter was still holding onto like a lifeline. “I’m glad Clarke has you.”

Clarke watched her mom and Bellamy communicate something else silently, as Bellamy nodded in response.

“It’s been a long day. I need to go get some sleep. I’ll see you later, Clarke,” Abby said, patting her daughter on the shoulder as she walked out the door.

When she was partway up the stairs, she paused. “Bellamy, you’re welcome here any time, and I mean that.”

“Thank you,” he responded.

They waited until they heard her walk across the second floor and shut her bedroom door before they turned to look at each other.

Clarke was about to make a joke, something to try to lighten the mood, but Bellamy spoke before she could.

“Did you mean that?”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised in question. “Which part? I mean…I didn’t lie about anything though…”

“About me. About…” He cleared his throat, glancing away from her. “…what I am to you.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Yes.”

He was looking at her with that look on his face again…the one that she could have sworn said ‘You’re _everything_ and I’m in love with you.’

Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes held hers. She was waiting…for what, she didn’t know. Maybe for him to make the decision she’d almost made earlier that morning but hadn’t been willing to risk.

He leaned toward her, closer and closer, and she was _sure_ he was going to kiss her…until the last second, when he wrapped her in an impossibly tight hug instead, his arms banding firmly around her upper back.

While she was incredibly disappointed, she also breathed a tiny sigh of relief…because again… _what if?_

She slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him back.

They stayed that way for a moment, taking strength from each other, as they always did, until Clarke felt his arms relax minutely.

“You really didn’t have to wash the towels for me, you know,” she mumbled against his chest.

He chuckled against her hair, finally releasing her and stepping back, his smile a little sheepish.

She straightened her shirt. “Can you manage to stay out of trouble for like 20 minutes so I can go take that shower?” she joked.

He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Chuckling, she made her way back upstairs, trying to act like she couldn’t feel his gaze follow her the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know some of y'all are getting anxious for them to move on to the next step and, trust me, I get it. But I'm trying to keep their relationship very similar to the one we've seen onscreen, so they're both still at the 'you're my soulmate, but platonically for now, cause I'm too afraid to lose you' stage. They've both still got some shit to work out, ya know? But I'm getting there, I promise. :)


	14. Chapter 14

After a long and exhausting Saturday shift, Clarke wasn’t sure if she wanted to sleep for 18 hours straight or collapse on the couch with a giant glass of wine and some mindless television. Instead, because of some poor planning (on her part), she was on her way to the group’s favorite dive bar, and she was bringing along some new friends.

After she, Maya, and Harper got out of Harper’s car, they regrouped on the sidewalk and headed down the block toward Drop Ship. They’d barely gotten inside when they saw Jasper enthusiastically waving them over to a large table, where Bellamy, Jasper, Monty, and…much to Clarke’s surprise…Miller and Bryan were already sitting.

“Clarke…who are your friends??” Jasper asked, his eyes drawn to Maya, and it probably would have seemed creepy coming from anyone but a lovable computer nerd; but, in this case, it was just kind of adorably cringeworthy.

“This is Maya,” Clarke said, pointing out the petite brunette. “And this is Harper,” she continued, introducing the taller blonde. “They’re both nurses at the hospital and they make 12 hour shifts a _little_ less painful.”

Clarke turned toward the table. “This is Jasper, Monty, Bellamy, Miller…and I’m fairly sure you’ve met the one over there,” she said, nodding to Bryan, who gave her a shy smile in return before greeting Maya and Harper.

“Sit, sit,” Clarke told the girls. “I’m sure Jasper will be happy to run up to the bar for you,” she said, smirking at her friend, who currently looked like the wolf from that old cartoon whose eyes would pop out of his head when a pretty girl walked by.

Jasper did just that, jumping up and getting the girls’ orders before Clarke could even blink. Of course, he completely forgot to ask her if she wanted anything.

Monty just shook his head, chuckling as he got up without a word, giving Clarke the seat next to Bellamy.

“Thanks,” she whispered as she passed him.

Bellamy looked at her in amusement as she sat next to him. “Jasper is…” he paused, searching for a description. “He reminds me of Jim Carrey from The Mask right now.”

Clarke laughed. “I was going with that old cartoon wolf, but yeah, same basic premise: eyes popping out and tongue lolling on the table.”

Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head. “Seriously, did you take on a job as cupid or what?” he asked, glancing first at Jasper, who was openly staring at Maya from the bar, and then at Miller, who was currently engaged in what looked like an intimate conversation with Bryan.

“Yeah, I meant to ask you…when did _that_ happen?” Clarke asked quietly, nodding her head toward the two men.

Bellamy shrugged. “Apparently they found each other on Facebook after Game Night and they’ve been…talking? Miller invited him tonight.”

She smiled. “Good.”

“I hope so,” he said sincerely. “Plus…when’s the last time Miller got on Facebook willingly? He must like him.”

Clarke chuckled. “When’s the last time _you_ got on Facebook willingly?”

He made a very attractive face before reluctantly admitting, “I’ve gotten on more lately than I ever have.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, taking a drink of his beer. “It feels like the only way I can keep up with Octavia.”

Clarke frowned. “I thought you two talked a lot?”

“We do, but It’s just not the same.”

She rubbed his arm. “Sorry, Bell.”

He shrugged again, taking another drink.

Clarke glanced around, seeing that Miller and Bryan were still occupied, Monty was saying something that both Harper and Maya seemed to find charming and/or funny, and Jasper was still waiting in line at the bar.

“Hey, where’s Raven? She wouldn’t miss Drop Ship.”

Bellamy smirked, tilting his head toward a high top on the other side of the bar.

Clarke’s eyes widened when she saw Raven, who looked her usual gorgeous, feisty self…apparently involved in some sort of heated debate with a taller man with blonde hair.

The two were practically shouting at each other, their conversation more and more animated as time went on. Raven’s ponytail whipped back and forth as she vehemently shook her head no, then the man turned partially away, running a frustrated hand over his face before turning back to Raven.

Clarke turned to look at Bellamy. “What the hell is that?! Should we go help her?”

Bellamy just shook his head.

“But…” Clarke gestured at the pair across the room.

“Just wait.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, but did as he suggested.

Raven stepped closer, pointing her finger and then jabbing it into the man’s chest. He responded by wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her into a kiss. Raven held stock still for a split second, then wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back forcefully.

Clarke was fairly sure her mouth was hanging open, given the sudden turn of events. She turned back to Bellamy. “...oh.”

He nodded.

“Have they…”

“They’ve been doing that since I got here like 10 minutes ago. Give ‘em a minute. They’ll go back to fighting again.”

“What the hell?”

He shrugged. “According to Monty, he works with Raven. Apparently, they bitch about each other all the time and can barely stand to be in the same room together…but then…” he gestured toward them with his beer bottle.

“Huh.”

Just then, Jasper came back, carrying a beer, which he handed to Harper, and something pink and in a fancy glass, which he handed to Maya.

“Thanks for getting our drinks, Jas,” Clarke said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, completely oblivious as he sat down next to Maya.

Bellamy snorted, turning sideways in his chair to get up. “I’ll get yours,” he said, leaning in close to her ear as he went to stand up. “You want something pink?” he asked sarcastically, since he knew exactly what her answer would be.

“God, no,” Clarke scoffed, thinking about the day she’d had. “Bourbon.”

Bellamy smiled. “That’s my girl,” he said, squeezing her shoulder as he walked past.

Clarke felt a shiver work its way through her…both at his touch and his choice of words, which she was sure were perfectly harmless, although she had to reminder herself of that.

Forcing a bit of a smile, she joined in the conversation around her, making sure Harper and Maya were having a good time and getting acquainted with everyone. She even managed to draw Miller and Bryan out of their bubble long enough to join in with the group.

Within a few minutes, Bellamy was sliding back into his seat, sliding a glass of amber liquid in front of her and setting a fresh beer down at his own seat.

“You not joining me?” Clarke asked.

He gave her what could most accurately be described as a side-eye. “One of us has to be able to drive home.”

Clarke smirked, acknowledging the truth of his statement as she took a generous swallow. “My hero,” she said, intending to make him smile. Instead, he got a little fidgety, smiling half-heartedly and taking another swig of his beer.

Bellamy got drawn into a conversation with Miller and Bryan, while Clarke got drawn into one with Harper and Monty. Their groups seemed to be meshing well together, and Clarke gave a contented but tired smile as she leaned back in her chair.

“You okay?” Bellamy asked quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah, today just kicked my ass. I kind of wanted to go home and crash, but I’d already told Raven I’d be here…and I invited Harper and Maya yesterday, so…” She glanced up, seeing that Raven was finally walking toward their table, looking none too pleased as her tall blonde companion followed. “Speaking of Raven…”

The entire table quieted, except for Jasper, who was very animatedly relaying some story to Maya. Raven paused beside the table, arms crossed and death glare in place.

If the grunt and look of outrage from Jasper was any indication, Monty had just kicked him under the table, trying to get him to shut up.

Raven still didn’t say a word.

Stepping up beside her, the man smiled at the group. “Since someone’s forgotten their manners, I guess I’ll introduce myself. Kyle Wick. Raven and I work together.”

Raven glared at him, but then reluctantly went around the table, introducing everyone by their first names.

Wick gave a polite nod to everyone as they were introduced.

Clarke was staring at him oddly, her face scrunched up.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy asked.

“Yeah, I just…” She could swear he was familiar to her in some way, but she wasn’t sure that she recognized his face. Unless it was his name…

“Wick! Kyle Wick!” she said excitedly, a decibel or two higher than she intended.

The entire table paused, looking at Clarke oddly.

“Yes?” Wick asked, slightly befuddled.

“Did you intern at Rothenberg & Associates Engineering like…” she paused, thinking back. “…eight years ago?”

“Yeah…how did you…” Now he paused, eyes studying her face. “Wait…holy shit, you’re Clarke Griffin, aren’t you?!”

 She nodded, smiling. “Now how did you know that?”

“Your dad had a picture of you on his desk.”

She nodded.

Everyone was looking back and forth between the two of them, until Raven finally asked, “What’s going on? You two know each other?”

“Not…really? I don’t think we ever met, but Wick interned at my dad’s engineering firm when he was in college, and my dad sort of took him under his wing. Used to come home all the time talking about this kid…” Clarke chuckled, shaking her head as she remembered.

“What about me?!” Wick asked.

“He said you were the cockiest little shit he’d ever seen.”

Raven snorted.

“But he always finished that sentence by saying that you had more talent than most of the senior engineers at his firm.”

Raven rolled her eyes while Wick beamed.

“He was always trying to figure out how to channel all that overconfidence into something amazing,” Clarke finished.

Wick hung his head a little bashfully before again perking up. “You though…God, I heard so much about you. ‘Clarke just got inducted into the National Honor Society’ and ‘Clarke is set to graduate from high school a semester early’ and ‘Clarke got the highest SAT scores in her school.’ He was so proud of you.” He paused, looking slightly mesmerized. “I just can’t believe it. Jake Griffin’s little girl…and in a bar, no less.”

Clarke laughed, but she also had to blink away a tear or two. “I’m not so little anymore.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He glanced at Monty, “sorry, can I…” he asked, gesturing to the seat beside Clarke.

Monty laughed, getting up and moving for the second time. “Sure.”

Wick walked around the table, taking the now empty seat beside her. “I’m sorry, is it weird if I want to hug you right now?”

Clarke smiled, since she’d been thinking exactly the same thing. Running into this man who’d known her father seemed so nostalgic somehow.  And even though they’d never met in person, they both felt like they knew each other from all of Jake’s stories. She shook her head, leaning over to hug him.

When they pulled back, Wick was looking over her shoulder. “Hey, man. Are you the boyfriend?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Clarke raised her eyebrows, turning slightly in her chair to look at Bellamy, who’d accepted Wick’s handshake most likely out of habit.

Bellamy was frowning. “What? No. We’re…no.”

“Oh. Okay.” Wick shrugged. “I just assumed…” He shrugged again, clearly unbothered, moving back to sit in his seat more comfortably, his body still turned toward Clarke. “Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral. That’s always bothered me.”

Clarke shook her head. “It’s okay.”

“I would have gone if I’d known. Jake was…he was the best mentor I ever could’ve asked for. Taught me so damn much. I really wanted to work with him when I graduated, but God, the boss was an ass sometimes. I ended up taking a job at another firm right after graduation and they had me working out of town when your dad…passed. I didn’t hear about it until I got back a few months later.”

“Really, it’s okay. He would have understood.”

He smiled sadly. “So, what about you? You were going to go be a doctor, right?”

“Yup. Graduated from Med School and started my internship at the hospital a few months ago.”

They continued on in that vein for quite a while, taking about their jobs and reminiscing about Jake Griffin.

At some point, Bellamy got up, coming back a few minutes later and setting another drink in front of her, which was impressive, given that she hadn’t even realized her old one was empty.

She gave him a grateful smile, mouthing ‘Thank you’ before turning back to Wick.

At some point after that, Miller, Bryan, Harper, Monty and Bellamy all went over to play pool. Raven got up, making quite a bit of noise as she did so, and reluctantly followed them to the pool table.

Wick chuckled. “You think maybe she’s pissed?”

Clarke grimaced, “I didn’t realize…”

He waved her off. “It’s fine. She’s just used to spending all her time arguing with me. Maybe this will be good for me.”

Clarke glanced over at her friend, who was currently glaring daggers into the back of Wick’s head. “Yeaaah, somehow I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think your…’not-boyfriend’ is too happy with me either right now,” he said, smirking.

Surprised, Clarke’s gaze flew to Bellamy, who was leaning against the wall, holding a cue stick and watching Miller take his shot. He didn’t look angry…if Clarke didn’t know any better, she’d say he looked sad.

Remembering her conversation with him earlier about Octavia, Clarke assumed he was just missing his sister.

Pulling out her phone, she sent Octavia a text.

Clarke: _hey, you home?_

It only took a few seconds for Octavia to reply.

Octavia: _yup. what’s up?_

Clarke glanced up at Wick. “Sorry, I’ll just be two seconds.”

“You’re fine,” he said, taking a swig of his beer.

Clarke: _I think Bell needs some sibling time. He seems a little…sad?_

Octavia: _(crying emoji) I wondered if he was doing alright. His texts lately seem a little blunt, even for him._

Clarke: _Have you guys been keeping in touch?_

Octavia: _Yeah, but between his new job, my new job at the karate studio, and Lincoln’s weird hours, we don’t get to talk all that much, at least not on the phone. And the old man still won’t try Skyping._

Clarke smiled, a plan already forming in her head.

Clarke: _That’s it! He needs to see you. I’ll use my account to call you. Be by your computer in 30?_

Octavia: _(thumbs up emoji)_

Clarke turned back to Wick. “This has been so great. I don’t think I knew how much I needed to talk about him, ya know?”

Wick smiled, patting her arm where it rested on the table. “I know. He really was a great man, Clarke. I wouldn’t be the engineer I am today if it weren’t for him. Anytime you want to swap Jake stories, you let me know. I’ll always be up for that.”

“Thanks, Wick,” she said, squeezing his shoulder as she got up and walked past him.

He walked with her to the pool table, where Raven promptly turned on her heel and marched off.

Wick laughed, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘What can you do?’ gesture and then went after her.

Clarke chuckled, making her way to Bellamy, who was still leaning against the wall.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Hey. You doing alright?”

He nodded, his eyes still on the pool table. “You?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’m actually doing pretty good right now.”

He nodded again.

Clarke was again struck by how despondent he seemed, which reminded her of her plan. “Hey, I’m still pretty tired. Do you mind if we leave early?”

He finally glanced at her. “Sure. I’m not really in the mood for all this anyway.”

She nodded, watching as he set the cue stick back in its holder and then started saying goodbye to their friends. Motioning for Harper and Maya to join her, she asked them if they were okay getting home on their own.

Both said they’d be fine, but they planned on staying a little longer if no one objected. Unsurprisingly, no one did.

“You ready?” Bellamy asked, coming up beside her.

She nodded, following him toward the door. “Bye, guys!” she called.

When they got outside in the chilly night air and started walking down the street to Bellamy’s truck, Clarke curled her hand around his bicep, again bumping into him. “Seriously. Are you alright? This seems like more than missing Octavia.”

“I’m fine. I just…” He slowed down, turning to look at her. “I’m glad you found someone to talk to.”

“I guess I just didn’t realize how much I needed to talk to someone that knew him. The only person I really have left in that department is my mom, and that’s a touchy subject with us, for obvious reasons…so it was really nice to just…reminisce with someone else who really respected him too, ya know? It’s like…It’s been so long since I’ve seen him and a lot of my memories almost don’t seem real because I don’t have someone to validate them every once in a while.” She shook her head. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Clarke. I’m just sorry none of us could do that for you.”

Clarke stopped abruptly, turning to face him. She looked up at him, trying to figure out if what was going through her head could possibly be true. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “God, you’re an idiot.”

He snorted against her hair. “Thanks?”

“You can’t fix everything, Bell. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he sighed, his breath fanning her curls. “I just never realized before that all of us were missing from such an important part of your life.”

Clarke moved back a little, looking up at him. “My dad would have loved you guys.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

“He would have! He was so laid back…it’s funny, cause he was pretty much the opposite of my mom.” Clarke tugged on his arm, getting him moving in the direction of his truck again. “He and Jasper and Monty would have geeked out for _days_ over comic books and video games and whatever other nerdy stuff they could come up with. He and Raven would have been _epic_ , like…’drawing designs for the next self-contained space colony on bar napkins’ epic. He and Miller probably would have bonded over sports, although my dad was a huge Man U fan, and Miller likes Man City, so they could have argued about that for eternity.” Clarke smiled, imagining her dad actually doing all those things with her best friends.

Bellamy snuck a glance down at her as they walked. “And what would he have bonded with me over? Was he also a secret carpenter?”

Clarke laughed. “No. But you and Octavia…you wouldn’t have needed a common interest. He would have treated you like family because of what you mean to me.”

Bellamy slid his arm around her back, pulling her into a side hug as they continued walking, his truck just a few parking spaces away.  “I guess we would have had one thing in common, anyway.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter contains my favorite sentence I've ever written...just fyi.

Clarke stopped just inside the door of Bellamy’s apartment, taking off her shoes.

“Be right back,” Bellamy said, heading into his bedroom. They were long past the “make yourself comfortable” phase.

“You care if I use your computer for a sec?” Clarke asked.

“Go ahead. Password is Alpha Quadrant. Two words, both capitalized,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into his room.

“You’re a giant dork!” she replied.

“You love it!” he called from the other room.

Yeah. Yeah, she kind of did.

She got his laptop off the coffee table, sitting down at the counter and setting it up. After she typed in his ridiculous password, she was greeted with an open internet browser.

Mulling it over for a nanosecond, she decided to let her curiosity get the better of her. After all, she was pretty sure she could guess what most 29-year-old single males looked at on a regular basis on their computer. Truth be told, she was a little curious as to what he enjoyed in that department…purely for scientific reasons, of course.

She was a little disappointed when she only found three tabs open and none of them were the slightest bit salacious.

The only things open were his Gmail account, Facebook, and a Youtube tutorial on…How to Stain Glass? “Seriously, Bellamy. Are you a 29-year-old man or a 65-year-old grandmother?” she muttered under her breath.

She quickly downloaded Skype and signed into her account, then texted Octavia.

Clarke: _you ready?_

Octavia: _and waiting_

Clarke: _I’m going to call you, but don’t say anything yet. I’m going full on stealth surprise mode here._

Octavia: _(thumbs up emoji)_

Clarke called Octavia, waving enthusiastically when the other girl’s face popped up.

Octavia returned her exuberant but silent greeting.

“Hey, Bell, you coming?” Clarke called out.

In a few seconds, he came walking out of his bedroom door, hand ruffling through his hair.

Clarke turned sideways in the chair, her eyes traveling the length of his body, surprised to find him in actual pajamas for once. They were the quintessential navy blue checkered pants and plain light grey Henley that every man probably owned at one point in his life or another.

Clarke was slightly surprised that they had any new moments of intimacy left unexplored between them, at least beyond the sexual, but this felt like one. She wasn’t sure she’d seen him in actual pajamas before, which was ironic since she ended up sleeping with him at least once or twice a week.

The thin shirt molded itself to his broad shoulders and defined upper arms, then left his muscular forearms bare where he had the sleeves pushed up. It was…a good look on him. A really good look.

“Not a word,” he said still looking down as he mussed his hair. “All my sweats are dirty except the pair…” He looked up, stopping in the middle of his sentence as he saw Clarke sitting at the counter and the real-time image of his sister smirking on the laptop screen behind her. “What is this??”

Clarke shrugged, smiling as she hopped down from the bar stool. “I thought you could use some face-to-face Blake bonding time.”

His face split into a grin, and then he was striding across the room toward her, hooking an arm around the back of her neck to pull her tightly to his chest.

She was pretty sure she felt him kiss the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he said, just for her.

She nodded, stepping back and then turning back to the laptop. “Bye, Octavia! I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait!” Octavia responded.

With that, Clarke gave Bellamy a gentle shove toward the bar stool she’d just vacated, then headed toward his bedroom.

“Clarke, you don’t have to leave,” he called after her.

“Talk to your sister, Bell,” she said with a gentle smile to show him she wasn’t at all put out.

She heard the beginning of their conversation as she walked into his bedroom.

“Hey, O. Long time no see.”

“Hey, big brother. Why is Clarke at your apartment at 1 in the morning and why are you in your pajamas?”

“I need to do laundry!”

“That was not the point of that line of questioning and you know it.”

Clarke snorted, walking further into his bedroom where their voices were less distinguishable. She found the pair of grey sweat pants she’d pretty much claimed and a t-shirt that said “Miller Contracting” on it folded on the bed.

That must have been what Bellamy was going to say before she surprised him with his sister…all his sweatpants were dirty except the pair he’d been saving for her.

Smiling, she took them into the bathroom to change.

When she came out a few minutes later, borrowed clothes on and hair in a messy bun, she walked over to the bedroom door, glancing out in the living room.

The sight in front of her made her heart happy. Both Blake siblings were leaning toward their computer screens, Octavia was talking a mile a minute, and they were both beaming.

In that moment, Clarke thought she might have a little bit of an understanding of how Bellamy felt at the bar.

Turning back into his room, she flopped on the bed, scrolling through various social media apps to pass the time.

She had fallen into some sort of Tumblr fandom hole when she heard silence from the other room for the first time. Glancing up, she saw Bellamy standing in the doorway, looking at her oddly.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Octavia wants to say bye.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, getting up and scooting past him. She noticed he stayed in his room, probably to give her and Octavia a minute of privacy.

“What’s up?” Clarke asked, sitting down on the stool in front of the laptop.

“Are you and my brother…a thing?”

Clarke’s eyebrows rose. “What?! I mean, we…no! Of course not!”

Octavia just looked at her slightly cynically. “He broke up with Gina, right? Like…right after you came back?”

“But that’s not…” Clarke couldn’t seem to form complete sentences.

“And am I mistaken, or is it…” she glanced at her phone. “Almost 1:30 in the morning, and you’re in his apartment, he’s in pajamas, and you’re…” she squinted, studying Clarke. “…wearing his shirt?!”

Clarke sighed. “I drank a little too much at the bar. Your brother was nice enough to offer me his couch. That’s all.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “Please. Like he’d ever let you sleep on the couch.”

Clarke shut her eyes, beginning to feel a headache forming. “Octavia…”

“Why didn’t you just stay with Raven?”

Clarke’s eyes snapped open. “Cause she actually does have a new boyfriend. Why don’t you go harass her about her love life, since she actually has one?!”

Octavia frowned, clearly not pleased at being left out of so many loops. “You know, just because I’m currently on the other side of the country doesn’t mean you guys are allowed to stop telling me things!”

Clarke smirked, reaching for the top of the computer and slowing starting to close it. “Got to go. Talk to you later!”

“I hate you, Griffin!”

“Love you too!” Clarke smirked, shutting the laptop.

Bellamy strolled back out of his bedroom, hands in his pockets. “Did she ask you a bunch of really uncomfortable questions about why you were in my apartment too?”

“Yup.”

He rolled his eyes, going to sit on the couch and picking up the remote. “She’s a little pain in the ass.”

“She’s a _big_ pain in the ass,” Clarke corrected.

“Thanks for…” he gestured in the direction of his computer.

Clarke smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said, coming over to sit down beside him.

Bellamy turned on the TV, flipping to their channel, which was currently showing an episode of Soap.

“This show was so far ahead of its time,” Clarke remarked.

“No kidding,” he replied, tilting his neck from side to side and then rolling his shoulders, wincing the entire time.

She took in his contortions, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” He glanced at her, apparently surprised she’d noticed. “Oh, nothing. I spent the last couple days installing overhead lighting at that new build we’re doing over in Eagle Park. I guess it fucked up my shoulders.”

Clarke took in his posture, which seemed unnatural, and her frown grew. Bellamy wasn’t one to complain about pain, so if he was, it must really be bothering him.

Without really even considering it, she climbed up on the couch behind him, wedging herself between his back and the back of the couch.

“…what are you doing?” he asked warily.

“I didn’t have a great view of the TV,” she joked. “Thought it might be better from up here,” she said, pulling his shoulders back and hearing his spine crack.

He made an involuntary moan. “Smart ass.”

“I am. Now shut up and let me fix your back,” she said, running her hands over his shoulders, pressing in various places to try to determine what was wrong.

She started using the heels of her hands to rub circles along the curves of his shoulder blades.

“Whaaaat are you doing?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

“You’ve got knots in your trapezius muscles,” she said, pressing on one to prove her point.

“Ow!” He exclaimed, shying away.

“Come here, you big baby,” she said, even as she reduced the pressure she was applying.

Even though it might be a _tiny_ bit amusing to watch him squirm, she didn’t want to actually hurt him, so she warmed his muscles up with a more gentle pressure.

“They teach you how to give massages in medical school too?” he asked, tilting his head slowly from side to side.

“Not really,” she replied, moving up to warm up the area between his neck and shoulders, which also made him flinch. “It helps to know what’s actually wrong though.”

After another minute or two of gentle pressure, she started using her thumbs to work out the tight spots.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, flinching again when she found a particularly bad spot.

She didn’t relent, and eventually felt the area loosen.

“That’s…” he finally relaxed a little, letting out a long breath. “Shit,” he repeated, although this time it sounded relieved instead of pained.

Clarke continued, moving back and forth between the slope of his neck and the back of his shoulders, feeling him relaxing minutely with each press of her thumbs.

It was sometime around when he started slumping forward that she realized just how close they were, with her basically straddling his back, a leg on either side of him as she was pressed in-between him and the back of the couch.

Determined not to let it rattle her, she continued until she felt the muscles relax significantly, then she moved up, placing a hand on either side of his neck and using her thumbs to massage the muscles on both sides of his spine right near the back of his neck.

She felt him relax…and relax…until suddenly he stopped, tensing up almost as badly as he had been to begin with. She was also pretty sure she felt him stop breathing.

“Bell?” she asked, frowning as she leaned partially around him, trying to see his face. “Does it hurt that bad? You may have torn something if…”

“No,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat. “No. It’s fine.” He deliberately, and seemingly with some effort, relaxed his shoulders again.

“Oookay,” she said, resuming her ministrations.

After spending a few minutes there, she worked her fingers upward, gentling the pressure as she moved her fingers into his hair, relaxing the smaller muscles, ligaments, and tendons there.

His head lolled forward, and she was again struck by just how close they were…and how much she wanted to touch him like this all the time.

It was that realization that had her reluctantly moving her fingers out of his hair, trailing them slowly down his neck before gripping his shoulders gently.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded. “I feel like Jello,” he said, his voice slightly husky.

She scooted out from behind him, retaking her place on the couch beside him. “Well, you felt like concrete when I first started, so I’d say that’s an improvement?”

He turned to look at her, an expression on his face she couldn’t name; it wasn’t a smile, but it seemed happy…intimate, maybe. “Thanks.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment until a new episode started playing, the opening voice-over breaking through the quiet.

_‘This is the story of two sisters, Jessica Tate and Mary Campbell. Jessica lives in a neighborhood known as…rich.’_

Clarke quickly stood up, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

She returned to the couch, handing it to Bellamy.

He looked at her questioningly.

Gesturing vaguely toward his shoulders, she explained, “Loosening the knots releases lactic acid and other toxins. Water helps flush them from your body.”

He uncapped the bottle, taking a long drink.

“I’ll…be right back,” Clarke muttered, heading toward the bathroom.

She spent a long moment washing her hands and dabbing cold water on her face, and then another long moment staring at herself in the mirror.

It wasn’t just that some of her time with Bellamy was becoming more and more sexually charged…at least on her end, that was getting to her. It was the perfectly normal, seemingly platonic moments that _shouldn’t_ have been intimate, but were, that were really getting to her.

She'd been naked with people before in moments that didn’t feel nearly as intimate as quite a few of the ones she’d spent fully clothed with Bellamy, and that was more than a little disconcerting.

“Best. Friend.” She quietly told the mirror. _“Best. Friend.”_

She’d gotten to speak to someone about her father and he’d just gotten to speak to his sister. It was a good night, and she wasn’t going to let whatever was going on in her head ruin it.

Nodding at the mirror, as if agreeing with herself, she took a deep breath, heading back out into the living room and plopping down on the couch next to him, perhaps purposefully keeping a foot or so of space between them.

“What did I miss?” she asked.

“Not sure,” he said, tossing his phone on the coffee table. “Octavia has been razzing me about the stupid pajamas. She bought them for me last Christmas.” He rolled his eyes.

“They are _kind of_ adorable,” Clarke smirked.

“I’m not _adorable_ ,” he grumbled, crossing his arms sullenly as he turned back toward the TV.

“I didn’t say _you_ were adorable. I said the pajamas were,” Clarke teased.

He gave her an impressive side eye.

She threw her head back laughing. “Okay, okay, you and the pajamas are _both_ adorable.”

“I’m a _man_. I build things for a living. I work out. I can bench press 250 pounds, for fuck’s sake. I’m not _adorable_ ,” he pouted, which made him even more adorable.

Clarke bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop herself from smiling. “Yes, Bellamy. I know, you’re a very manly man with big strong muscles,” she said, squeezing his bicep and finding that it was indeed impressive.

Maybe that’s what was driving her crazy tonight…the sight of him being both adorable and sexy at the same time was too much for her already confused brain to handle at once.

He turned to look at her, eyes still narrowed, although they were bright with mirth. “Glad you noticed,” he replied, and she wasn’t sure if that part was said in jest or not.  

He turned back toward the TV, his arm automatically raising to go around her shoulders, although it paused, then started moving more slowly, his face tensing as his arm finally came to rest across her upper back.

Clarke looked up at him, again biting the inside of her cheek. “Do your big strong manly muscles hurt?” she asked as innocently as possible.

“Maybe,” he admitted grudgingly, through gritted teeth.

Snorting, she grabbed a pillow, placing it on his lap and laying her head on top of it, her body stretched out on the couch.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Better?” she asked.

“Shut up.”

She smirked, turning her attention back to Benson, who wasn’t even trying to hide his hatred for his boss.

Within a few minutes, Bellamy’s thumb started tracing circles on her upper arm.

Before she knew it, her eyes were blinking open as she felt him rearranging their positions on the couch. “No!” she said, moving quickly and slightly clumsily in her half-asleep state. She moved away from him, sitting up.

His eyes widened, looking surprised and somewhat hurt. “You fell asleep,” he explained. “I was just…”

“No, I know,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You can’t sleep out here though. It’ll mess up your back even worse.”

“Oh,” he replied, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But I can’t…” He gestured in the direction of his room, not quite meeting her eyes.

She knew what he was going to say. ‘I can’t sleep in bed if you’re going to sleep on the couch.’

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well, I mean…would it be weird if I…?” She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I mean…we’re both adults…and we’re friends. We end up falling asleep together out here half the time anyway…” _Okay, all of the time._ “And at my house, we…”

They sat there, both studiously not looking at each other.

“Not weird,” he said, still not looking at her as he stood up, turning off the TV. “Come on.”

She got up as well, following him into the bedroom.

In an odd display of synchronicity that felt so domestic Clarke wanted to cry, they turned down the bed together, each getting in their own side.

Bellamy turned on the TV, probably to make them both more comfortable.

“Night, Clarke,” he said, laying down on his side of the bed.

“Night, Bell,” she responded, laying down on the other side.

They both laid there, trying to go to sleep but having little luck.

It just seemed so odd…being in his bed together…but not touching. Falling asleep together on purpose instead of by accident…although one could argue that it hadn’t been by accident ever since that first night.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” he grumbled, reaching for her.

She went willingly into his embrace, her back curling into his body as his arm went around her stomach.

Being in his room…being in his bed…falling asleep together on purpose…it all stopped being weird the minute he touched her. It just felt right.

Clarke muffled a yawn into her pillow. It really was stupid how easily she fell asleep once his arm was around her, she thought as her eyes closed of their own accord.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke slipped carefully out of bed, then padded quietly out of the room, trying her damnedest not to wake Bellamy. She’d woken up a few minutes before, curled up with him, and she’d spent a considerable amount of that time trying to talk herself out of doing something stupid…like kissing him awake.

She’d scooted away from him, carefully lifting his arm and getting out of there before she could do something she shouldn’t.

Sighing, she walked quietly over to the coffee maker in his kitchen, getting it ready and turning it on. While she waited, she opened his computer, which was still on the counter where she’d left it last night.

She spent a few minutes signing out of her Skype account and creating a new one, then adding contacts.

Shutting the laptop and heading over to the now full coffee pot, Clarke almost dropped the mug she’d just picked up when she heard Bellamy’s voice, still scratchy from sleep.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, his brain clearly not firing on all cylinders yet.

Clarke raised an eyebrow in amusement, filling the mug and sliding it across the counter to him. It looked like he needed it more than she did. “Coffee.”

He nodded, picking up the mug and taking a whiff, which seemed to perk him up almost instantly.

Clarke got another mug from the shelf, pouring some for herself.

“Why are you up so early?” he asked, his voice more recognizable after taking a sip.

She shrugged. “Just woke up. I figured I’d come set up your computer for you before I head home.”

“Set up my computer?”

She nodded, pushing the laptop toward him. “You now have your own Skype account, and I’ve already programmed Octavia into your contacts. Well…and me, too.”

His face softened. “You didn’t have to…”

“I know,” she said, leaving her  mug on the counter as she walked around it, heading toward his bedroom. “The log in is your email address and your password is ‘Gamma Quadrant 175’. Two words, both capitalized, number separate.”

Gamma Quadrant was, of course, another Star Trek reference, and 175 was Octavia’s May 17th birthday flipped.

His entire face seemed to light up as he looked at her. “You’re a giant dork,” he called as she walked past him.

“You love it!” she returned, just as he had the night before.

“I really do,” he responded matter-of-factly.

Clarke’s heart may have stopped for a split second, but she forced herself to keep walking, grabbing her clothes and carrying them into the bathroom to get dressed.  


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Re: Last Chapter: For those who were wondering, my favorite line was "She'd been naked with people before in moments that didn’t feel nearly as intimate as quite a few of the ones she’d spent fully clothed with Bellamy, and that was more than a little disconcerting." It seemed like a pretty good description for canon-Bellarke too.
> 
> Re: This Chapter: I am shameless and I am not sorry.

“It’s November. _November_ , Bellamy. Since when do we get two feet of snow in November?!” Clarke whined into her cell phone.

He chuckled. “Well, we live in the Appalachians, so an early snowstorm every now and again isn’t that odd.”

She huffed, sitting down on the next to last step in the stairwell. “I don’t want explanations and logic, Bellamy. I want to bitch and, as a good friend, you should agree with me.”

He chuckled. “Have you looked outside though?”

Clarke glanced out the giant wall of windows in the stairwell. “Yes. I still hate it.”

“You do not.”

“Fine, I do not,” she admitted grudgingly, seeing how ridiculously beautiful it was. “I really do hate that I’ve been locked in this hospital for 48 hours though.”

They’d gotten a massive snowstorm that dropped almost two feet of snow and ice, and they hadn’t had more than a few hours notice that it was on its way. Everyone at the hospital had scrambled around, trying to prepare and making sure they had enough staff in the on-call room just in case they got snowed in for a few days…which they did.

Clarke thanked all her lucky stars that she’d had enough time to throw some clothes and her phone charger in her backpack before leaving, or she’d be even more miserable than she was now.

“Is it that bad?” he asked.

“I worked a 12. Then I spent 12 hours in the on-call room. I’ve watched Netflix. I’ve played every game imaginable on my phone. I found my Kindergarten teacher on Facebook. Harper and I painted each other’s nails and then played a rousing game of Go Fish with Bryan. And I ended up getting like two hours of sleep because I’d been sitting in the same room for 12 hours.” Clarke knew she was whining, but she didn’t really care. She deserved to, dammit. “Then I got up and did it all over again. Bryan and I spent the last half hour jogging up and down the stairwell.”

Bellamy snorted. “You? Jogging?”

“THAT’S HOW BORED I AM!”

He laughed. “I’m sorry. When do you get to leave?”

“I don’t know. I’m already technically over how many hours I’m allowed to work this week, but we’re already a doctor short, so I have to fill in. Plus, it’s not like I could go anywhere anyway.”

The roads were mostly impassible; a lot of ice had fallen first, followed by massive amounts of snow. The plows that were able to get out weren’t doing much good, because scraping the snow away left a sheet of ice behind. Typically, they would also drop salt to melt the ice, but since it was hovering right around 15 degrees, the salt was virtually useless. Officials were telling everyone to stay where they were until they could manage to start digging their way out.

“You could come here,” Bellamy supplied.

“…how would I even get there?”

“Walk.”

“It’s like 12 degrees, Bellamy!”

He chuckled. “It’s not that bad if you dress warm enough. Plus, it’s only a few blocks. I can come get you if you want,” he offered, like it was no big deal.

She leaned her head against the wall, smiling at his offer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Why?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice, as well.

“I’m not going to ask you to walk all the way over here just to walk me back to your place.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

She shook her head, feeling calmer than she had in the last 48 hours. “You’re insane, but I almost wish I could walk through town in subarctic temperatures and two feet of snow, just to get out of here. But, like I said…we’re still short-staffed.”

“Well, offer stands if you ever get paroled.”

“Thanks, Bell.”

“Anytime.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, neither quite ready to hang up, apparently.

“Tell me one of those ancient myths you love so much,” she said.

“Seriously?” he asked, more than a little surprised since she usually rolled her eyes when he started geeking out too hard.

“Yeah. I need something to put me to sleep.”

“I hate you,” he muttered.

She smiled, “You offered to walk through Snowmageddon twice just to come save me. You don’t hate me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed, and she could hear him shifting around, probably getting more comfortable on his couch. “Do you remember Romulus and Remus?”

“Tell me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke shivered, pulling her hat down more securely over her ears as she walked out into the frigid cold. Frowning at her phone, which still wasn’t showing any incoming texts, she shoved it in her pocket and pulled on her gloves.

Everyone had been surprised as hell when Indra had shown up at the hospital a few minutes ago. Apparently, she’d bribed and/or threatened a snow plow driver until he’d agreed to bring her as far as he could on his route and then she’d walked the last few blocks to the hospital.

Although, really, no one should be surprised by anything Indra did at this point; she was scary in her determination and efficiency.

When she’d shown up, Clarke had been the one replaced, since she currently had more hours than anyone else. Instead of being happy about being off work, Clarke had groaned, the thought of being trapped with everyone in the hospital for the foreseeable future without even work to distract her more than she could handle at the moment.

She’d immediately texted Bellamy, about to take him up on his offer; well, at least part of his offer. She wasn’t going to ask him to come all the way to the hospital, but she also wasn’t going to complain if he insisted on meeting her partway. Basically, she didn’t care who did what as long as she ended up at his apartment.

But, even after she’d packed up her stuff and bundled up, he still hadn’t answered her text. She’d tried calling him as she walked down to the lobby, but he hadn’t answered that either.

A more prudent Clarke would have waited for his response, but the Clarke who had been trapped in the on-call room with a dozen other interns for more than two days convinced herself that Bellamy had extended an open-ended invitation and, given that no one could drive anywhere, he had to be home.

She pulled her scarf up to cover her mouth, tucked her hands in her coat pockets, and started walking gingerly down what she assumed was the sidewalk, telling herself that he’d return her text once he looked at his phone.

Even though the snow was ridiculously deep and it was still coming down, Clarke was managing okay, thanks to her knee-high boots and the fact that she wasn’t sinking all the way through.

She made it a couple blocks over before ducking in the doorway of a closed restaurant, taking a moment to escape the wind while she checked her phone again.

Still nothing.

Frowning at her phone, as if it were to blame, she hurriedly typed a text to Raven, asking if she was home just in case Bellamy didn’t answer by the time she got there.

She put her phone back in her pocket, put her glove back on, and braced herself before stepping back out into the elements.

Clarke trudged through a few more blocks of snow, nodding at the two other people she passed that were insane enough to be outside. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stepped into Bellamy’s parking lot, and felt even better when she saw his pickup sitting in his normal spot.

Feeling her phone buzz in her coat pocket, Clarke smiled at what had to be perfect timing on Bellamy’s part.

She pulled out her phone…only to be greeted instead by a text from Raven…who had apparently gotten snowed in at Wick’s apartment, which was on the other side of town.

Clarke sighed, checking to make sure her text to Bellamy had gone through. It had, but he still hadn’t read it, which was very unlike him. After another unanswered call, Clarke felt like screaming in frustration.

Not having much choice at this point, she made her way over to the doorway, sitting on the stoop, which someone had shoveled at some point.

She sat there for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few minutes, before pulling out her phone again…only to find that it had gone dead.

She frowned, tapping futilely at the button and trying to turn it back on, but to no avail, which made no sense given that she’d had almost a full charge when she left the hospital.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, putting her now useless phone back in her pocket and hugging her arms across her chest, trying to stay warm.

She kept hoping that either Bellamy would finally see her text and come looking for her or else that another resident would come out, at least giving her the option of warming up in the hallway if Bellamy somehow wasn’t in his apartment.

Given that there was nowhere to go and no way to get there, the number of people exiting the building was noticeably…zero.

“Where’s the guy with the golden retriever?” Clarke asked out loud. “Dogs still have to pee, even when it’s snowing, right?”

She got up, hopping around a little to get her circulation going again.

“Dammit, Bellamy. Where the hell are you?”

She paced his parking lot a few times, trying to stay warm, but quickly realized that the wind was doing more harm than the exercise was doing good, and decided to go back to the slight shelter offered by the doorway.

She glanced at her father’s watch, deciding she’d wait until 10:30 am, which was roughly another 20 minutes. If she wasn’t able to get inside by then, she’d head back to the hospital, although making that trek again in this wind sounded _miserable_.

Clarke spent the next 20 minutes shivering, knocking on the door, hopping up and down, and just generally freezing.

By 10:34, her fingers and toes were both numb, she couldn’t feel most of her face, and she was fairly sure that this was how she was going to die. Someone would discover her frozen body and wonder why on earth a doctor had died of hypothermia outside an apartment building.

But hey, at least her nails were freshly painted, right?

Just as Clarke had that ridiculous thought (and started wondering about the current state of her sanity), she heard footsteps crunching through the snow.

“Clarke?!”

She lifted her head up from where it was burrowed inside the collar of her jacket, looking out into the parking lot and finding Bellamy making his way to her as quickly as he could, given that the snow was outrageous and he was carrying a toolbox.

“Are you okay?!” He asked, quickly setting his toolbox on the ground and grasping her under her elbows, pulling her up. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, his eyes frantically checking her over.

She shrugged, not really caring now that the prospect of heat was just a few seconds away.

Bellamy pulled his keys out, using the electronic fob to open the door and pushing her inside, reaching back out to get his toolbox.

He wrapped an arm around her back, leading her toward the elevator, which was a good thing since her legs weren’t very cooperative at the minute.

They got inside, and Clarke promptly leaned against the wall as he pressed the button for Level 6.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, guilt written all over his face. “What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t leave?”

“Indra made it in this morning and relieved me. Where were you?” she asked, although she wasn’t sure if he could understand her, given that her teeth were still chattering. “Where was there to even go? Everyone is snowed in!”

He winced. “David called me a little while ago,” he said, referring to his boss and Miller’s dad. “There’s an old lady a few streets over that’s one of our regulars. Her heat was out and he asked me if I could go take a look at it for her because no one else could get there until after they get some of the roads cleared.”

Clarke sighed, because of course Bellamy would walk through the snow to fix an old woman’s furnace in the middle of a blizzard. “I called you.”

“I didn’t even realize my phone had died until a few minutes ago. I think it has something to do with the cold.”

Clarke nodded. “Mine died right after I got to your parking lot.”

“Shit. Is that why you didn’t call Raven?”

“I did, earlier. She’s at Wick’s.”

“Shit,” Bellamy repeated, hanging his head.

The elevator doors opened, and Bellamy quickly led her to his door, unlocking it and guiding her inside.

He immediately took her backpack off her back, setting it in his entryway with his toolbox. “What do you need?” he asked, pulling off his work gloves and touching the back of his fingers to her cheek. “Jesus Christ, Clarke, you feel like an ice cube.” He unzipped her coat, then started unwinding her scarf. “Do you want to take a hot shower or…?”

She shook her head. The thought of being naked right now was a little too much to bear, plus she was fairly sure that you weren’t supposed to use hot water on someone when they were as cold as she was. “Dry clothes,” she muttered. Her coat seemed to have kept her torso fairly dry, but her pants had gotten wet near the tops of her boots and on the butt, from where she’d been sitting on the stoop outside.

“Of course,” he said, then glanced at her feet. “Do you need help?”

Clarke glanced down at her boots, which had zippers on the side. Given that she couldn’t even feel her fingers right now, she was pretty sure zippers were out of her wheelhouse for the moment. “My boots…”

Without even hesitating, he knelt down and unzipped them.

She put her hand on his shoulder for balance, stepping out of them.

Before she could blink, he was standing back up, pulling her coat off her shoulders and hanging it in his entryway. He slipped his own boots and outer gear off, then walked into his bedroom.

By the time Clarke managed to get her gloves, hat, and scarf off, he was back, grabbing her arm to pull her into his bedroom, where he’d left clothes out for her.

“I’ll wait out here,” he said, going into the living room and pulling the door shut behind him.

Clarke hurriedly changed into his sweatpants and sweatshirt, simultaneously glad to be out of her clothes, which were damp and chilled, and horrified at how cold it was while she was changing said clothes.

She opened the door, finding Bellamy waiting on the other side with the large blanket off the couch.

He stepped forward, putting the blanket over her shoulders and wrapping it around her. “Come on,” he said, leading her over to his bed and turning back the covers for her.

When she climbed in, he immediately covered her. “You okay?” he asked, obviously still concerned.

She nodded, hiding her nose in the blanket that was wrapped around her.

Bellamy grabbed a change of clothes for himself, then disappeared into the bathroom.

When he emerged a minute or two later, he immediately went to his closet, pulling down another blanket from the top shelf and spreading it over her legs. “I forgot this was in there,” he said, standing beside her. “Do you want some coffee or hot chocolate or something?” he asked, frowning as he tried to think of ways to make her more comfortable.

She shook her head, her teeth still chattering. “Can you…get in?” she asked, nodding at the space beside her.

“Oh. Shit, yeah, of course,” he said, getting under the covers with her and immediately pulling her against his chest.

Clarke sighed, a shiver working its way through her body at the sudden heat that surrounded her.

“You’re actually radiating cold,” he muttered, concern evident in his tone.

“Tell me about it,” she replied, burying her nose gratefully into the warmth of his chest.

After a few minutes, he released her, getting out of bed.

Clarke let out a whimper and she wasn’t even ashamed about it.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, disappearing into the bathroom again.

Clarke pouted in that direction for about five seconds before he returned, towel in hand.

“Your hair’s wet,” he explained, motioning for her to face away from him.

She did, and another shiver worked its way through her as he started gently toweling her hair dry.

Her eyes closed involuntarily as she relaxed.

When he deemed her hair dry enough, he paused. “Better?”

She nodded, reluctantly pulling her arms out of the blanket to quickly pull her hair into a bun.

He tossed the towel into the bathroom, then rejoined her, wrapping the blanket securely around her and pulling her back into his arms.

Clarke laid her head on his chest, one of her hands automatically coming up to rest on his arm.

He flinched involuntarily. “Jesus, Clarke.”

She winced. “Sorry,” she said, moving to pull her hand back.

He grabbed it. “I’m going to regret this.”

She glanced up at him questioningly, but he just took both of her hands in one of his, pulling them under his shirt.

Clarke stiffened in surprise as she felt his abs quivering under her frozen fingers, but Bellamy just put his arm back around her, rubbing her back to try to warm her up.

She was having varying reactions to this new arrangement, but the paramount one for the moment was utter relief as some of his warmth started seeping into her fingers.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, but Clarke couldn’t stop the shivers that worked their way through her spine every so often.

“You’re not getting warm, are you?” he asked.

“No, I am. It’s way better than before. I just still feel like I’m chilled to the bone.”

His hands paused on her back. “Are you…” he paused, coughing self-consciously. “You have a bra on, right?”

Clarke raised her eyebrows, but he couldn’t tell since her head was against his chest. She nodded.

“Take your shirt off,” he said, his voice a little hesitant.

“…what?”

“Body heat, right?”

Clarke considered it for a moment. That was what they were taught to do in extreme cases, and while she didn’t think she actually had hypothermia, it would probably help speed up the warming process. “Um, yeah. Right.”

He released her, scooting back a little and then pulling his t-shirt up and off in one swift movement.

Clarke swallowed, her eyes going a little wide at the sight of his bare torso suddenly right in front of her. Clearing her throat and averting her eyes, she grabbed the bottom hem of her borrowed sweatshirt, pulling it off and losing the blanket in the process, silently thanking her lucky stars that she still had on the sports bra she’d been wearing under her scrubs. Not only was it more comfortable than a regular bra, it also offered a little more coverage.

She shivered at the sudden exposure to the air, but Bellamy moved quickly, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping the blanket around both of them.

Clarke inhaled sharply, her brain short-circuiting as all that bare skin met.

She almost forgot about how cold she was when she was pressed against his bare chest and his hand was splayed across her bare back.

Hesitating for just a moment, she slowly moved her arms up, wrapping them around his shoulders and pressing her nose into his hair.

His arms tightened a little around her. “Better?”

She nodded, not really trusting herself to speak at the moment.

His hand started rubbing her bare back, the sensation causing tremors in another part of Clarke’s anatomy that apparently was already quite warm and she had to stifle a moan, dropping her face down to hide in his neck.

As his body heat slowly warmed her, a myriad of emotions assailed her. They were close… _so close_ …and there was so much naked Bellamy in her arms. It would be so easy for her to kiss his cheek…kiss his neck…kiss him _everywhere_.

Clarke took a deep breath, forcing her libido to settle down. This was neither the time nor the place, and she wasn’t ready to take that kind of a risk, not when it came to him.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to just…be. She tuned out her lust and focused on how close they were, their skin touching, his strong arms cradling her like she was something important to him.

She focused on the warmth she felt, both physically and metaphorically. She focused on how utterly _safe_ and _content_ she felt…how utterly _right_ this felt. It was both a liberating and a terrifying realization that this… _this_ was exactly where she belonged.

She was fairly sure, by this point, that she wanted to have his babies someday, but even if that never happened, even if they never became involved romantically, even if she never got to tell him how she really felt…it didn’t matter, because she would always have _this_. And this was _everything_.   

They stayed wrapped around each other for who knows how long; the only thing Clarke knew for sure was that it wasn’t long enough.

“Better?” he asked softly, his voice quiet, as if he too was afraid to break the spell they’d woven around themselves.

She nodded, but made no move to leave the circle of his arms. “We’re really taking friendship to a new level, aren’t we?” she asked, her voice teasing but perhaps a testing motive behind her light remark.

He paused for a moment, as if considering his answer. When he finally spoke, his tone seemed just as light as hers, although she could’ve sworn he was forcing it. “What? You don’t think I’d do this for Jasper?”

She smiled against his shoulder, her hands moving slightly as she flexed them on his skin.

His arms tightened fractionally around her, so subtle she almost thought she imagined it.

“Clarke,” he said, his voice hesitant…strained, as if he were waging some kind of internal battle.

Her breath caught in her throat, because maybe this was it; maybe this was the moment.

“Bell,” she breathed against his skin.

The hand on her back moved more noticeably this time, his fingers splaying wider as he pressed her more tightly against his chest, his nose nudging the delicate skin just below her ear.

Just as quickly as his arms had tightened, they then loosened. “You ready for that hot chocolate now?” he asked, brusquely sliding her off his lap and getting out of bed.

She watched him go, her heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. “Sure.”

He grabbed his discarded shirt off the bed, getting ready to put it on.

Before he could, she reached out a hand, grabbing the other end.

His eyes flew up to meet hers in surprise.

“Can I have a t-shirt instead?” she asked, nodding toward the sweatshirt she’d taken off earlier.

“Sure. I can get you one.”

And maybe she was a glutton for punishment, or maybe she just wanted to push him a little, but she wasn’t quite done with him yet. She slowly shook her head, her eyes not leaving his.

His pupils darkened right in front of her and his Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably in his throat as he swallowed.

They stayed suspended in time, just staring at each other, as they so often did.

Clarke swore they could have entire conversations with just their eyes: hers challenged, his questioned, and then they both retreated, albeit reluctantly.

He released the shirt to her grasp, walking to the dresser to pull out another shirt for himself.

He left the room, pulling the shirt over his head as he went, his form soon disappearing from her line of sight as he headed into the kitchen.

Clarke took her first deep breath in what seemed like forever, looking down at the shirt in her hands.

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her, but tonight had produced some desperate need to know if he felt about her the way she felt about him.

She still wasn’t ready to do anything about it, per se, but she wanted to _know_ , dammit.

She still couldn’t be certain of his feelings, but she was certain of one thing now—he was attracted to her, and in a significant way, if his reactions from the past hour or so were any indication.

Clarke grinned a little as she pulled the t-shirt over her head, inhaling Bellamy’s scent, which instantly righted her.

Well, at least she knew she could continue to lust after her best friend without feeling like too much of a creep about it…cause she was pretty damn sure she wasn’t alone in that.

Clarke listened, noticing there wasn’t any noise coming from the kitchen.

For some reason, she could picture Bellamy standing with his hands on the counter, eyes closed as he got himself under control.

Part of her wanted to walk into the other room and stop him. The other part of her was glad that he seemed to have more willpower than she did.

After a few more seconds of silence, Clarke started hearing noises of activity coming from the kitchen: a cupboard door closing, the refrigerator door opening and closing, the microwave being used.

A couple minutes later, Bellamy was back, handing her a mug of steaming hot chocolate. “Need anything else?” he asked.

“Actually, could you do me a favor and grab my phone? It’s in my coat pocket.”

He nodded, retrieving it from the living room and handing it to her.

Luckily, it powered on easily now that it had warmed up.

“I left my spare key and the spare fob for the door downstairs on the counter beside your stuff,” he said, looking a little sheepish.

She waited, but he didn’t expand on his previous comment. “…why?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t give them to you before. Octavia used to have them, but obviously she doesn’t need them in California, so they’ve been sitting in my junk drawer. You’re here all the time anyway…and with you working so close… If I’d have given them to you earlier, you wouldn’t have frozen half to death waiting for me.”

She studied him. “You don’t have to do that just because of what happened today. I’m fine, and I can’t see these circumstances repeating themselves anytime soon.”

“No, but like I said, you should’ve had them to begin with. You’re welcome to come over anytime, whether I’m here or not. Seriously. Mi casa es su casa.” He brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Just…knock first if you think I might be home, yeah? In case I’m naked or something.”

Clarke smirked a little at that. “Okay. Thank you.”

He nodded, still standing there a little awkwardly.

Clarke took a sip of her hot chocolate before setting it on the nightstand. She pressed a few buttons on her phone, finding what she wanted. “Come on,” she told him, indicating that he should get back in bed with her.

What she’d wanted to show him on her phone was a game that she’d discovered while cooped up in the on-call room. It was an app of a quiz show, and she knew Bellamy’s dorky ass would love it…and she wouldn’t mind kicking his ass at the math and science questions since she knew he’d destroy her at the history and literature questions.

A few minutes later found him sitting against the headboard, her between his legs, back against his front, ostensibly so they could stay warm and so they could both see the screen.

“That was my question, you little cheater!” he griped from behind her, pinching her arm. “And you got it wrong anyway!”

She smiled, leaning her head back against his chest.

Yeah.

This?

This was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Edit to the note at the beginning of this chapter: I am shameless, I am an angst whore, and I am not sorry.


	17. Chapter 17

Clarke pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket as she walked through the parking garage, pressing ‘Call’ on her most used contact.

“Hey,” Bellamy answered, slightly breathless. “I just got back from the gym, so I need like ten minutes to shower. Do you want Panda Hut or do you want to go pick up burgers from the Grill once you get here? Or I might have…” she could hear him opening his refrigerator door. “I’ve got the stuff for spaghetti. Preference?”

Clarke bit her lip as she walked toward her car, trying to decide. She _loved_ his spaghetti…she loved anything he made, really, and watching him cook for her? Well, that wasn’t really something she ever turned down. Given what she was calling to ask him about though, she decided to give him a reprieve from the kitchen. “Burgers,” she responded.

“Oh,” Bellamy replied, a little surprised. Apparently he’d also noticed that she never turned down his offer to cook.

“Actually…I was calling to ask you something,” Clarke began, a little hesitantly. She was _pretty sure_ he’d love the idea as much as she did, but she could be wrong.

“Shoot.”

“You’re still free for Thanksgiving, right?”

“I was under the impression I had plans, actually,” he said, and she could hear the slight frown in his voice from the other side of the phone.

“That’s not what I meant. You didn’t decide to fly out to Cali or suddenly get a hot date or anything, did you?”

They’d mentioned Thanksgiving a few times after she’d learned he wasn’t going to see Octavia and Octavia apparently had no plans to fly home either. He was, of course, invited to the Griffin Thanksgiving, although no one had any idea when it would be held, since neither Clarke nor her mom had gotten their schedules yet.

“Yeah, Clarke. I picked up a random girl at the gas station yesterday and immediately made plans for Thanksgiving. Doesn’t everyone?”

Clarke snorted, pressing the fob to unlock her car. “You’re such a smart ass.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you like about me,” he retorted.

“Fair point,” she conceded.

“Yes, I’m still free for Thanksgiving. Did you guys pick a time? I’m supposed to show up a good 12 hours before, right?” he asked, only half joking. Making pumpkin pie from scratch took a lot of time, as he’d learned at his first Griffin Thanksgiving.

“Actually, no. We’re not doing Thanksgiving this year.”

“Oh,” he replied, his voice hesitant. Aside from last year, when Clarke hadn’t been speaking to anyone, he’d been at her house for every Thanksgiving since they’d met. “Okay. I can…that’s fine. I can probably tag along to Miller’s or something.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it oddly for a moment before she registered what she’d just heard in his voice. He thought he was being uninvited.

She rolled her eyes. Please. As if she’d ever not take every opportunity to be around him.

“My mom got called to some consult in Chicago. A senator’s son, I think? They’re trying to devise a treatment plan and they called in the top specialists from around the country. She probably won’t be back before the weekend. She asked me if I wanted her to decline and stay here for Thanksgiving…or if I wanted to go with her.”

“…and what did you tell her?”

“I told her to go do her job, and that I’m pretty sure I’d rather have an elective colonoscopy than spend Thanksgiving in a hotel room eating from a buffet.”

Bellamy snorted. “I’m sure that went over well.”

“Eh,” Clarke shrugged, getting in her car. “So…I was wondering. Do you want to have Friendsgiving?”

“Friendsgiving?”

 “I think it’s usually something people do in college or when they’re away from home on Thanksgiving. I don’t know, it’s a thing now. But, basically, a bunch of friends get together, do the whole turkey and stuffing bit, and drink way more than they would if Grandma was sitting at the table. I know almost everyone else has other dinners to go to, but maybe we could make ours late so they could do both?” She paused, slightly nervous as she waited for an answer. She wasn’t sure why this was important to her…but it was. “We don’t have to if you don’t…”

“I’m in.”

She grinned. “Yeah?”

“So we’re…hosting Thanksgiving together?” he asked, his voice a little hesitant...she almost wanted to categorize it as cautiously optimistic.

“Yes?”

“Can’t wait, Princess,” he replied, and based on his tone, she could picture his expression; he was smiling that half-smile that she loved so much. 

Clarke glanced at her watch. “I know we were supposed to relax tonight, but do you want to go grocery shopping before everything gets bought out?”

It was Tuesday night, which meant there was only one more day until Thanksgiving, plus they both had to work tomorrow.

“Yeah. We need to message all the delinquents too and see who’s in.”

“You start. I’m getting ready to leave work now. I’ll meet you at your place in a few.”

“Hey!” He paused before continuing, “You said your mom is going to be gone the rest of the week, right?”

“Yeah, probably. Why?”

“Do you…are you looking forward to having the house to yourself for the next few days?” he asked, and there was a slight stutter in his voice.

“Not really. It’s kinda creepy out there when I’m by myself for too long,” Clarke replied, starting her car.

“…why don’t you stay with me?” he asked in a rush, almost stringing the words together.

Clarke paused, her hand on the gear shift. “…stay with you?”

“Yeah…I mean…if you want. You’d be close to work…we have a lot to do the next couple days to make dinner anyway…and you wouldn’t have to stay out there by yourself…” He cleared his throat, pausing for a second. “But I mean…you don’t have to. It was just a thought…”

“No!” Clarke hurriedly interjected. “I…yeah, that would be great.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The line was silent for a minute, both of them a little too awkward to know where to go next.

“So…uh…why don’t you go home and grab some clothes and whatever…and I’ll shower and then text everybody. Meet at Kroger in an hour?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both disconnected.

Clarke sat in her running car, one hand still frozen on the gear shift, staring at the phone in her other hand, which showed the length of their call and Bellamy’s contact picture.

It was a picture she’d snapped a few years ago when they’d all been drunk at one bar or another, and she’d realized that Bellamy was the only contact of importance in her phone that didn’t have a picture attached.

_Clarke had answered a text from Raven, who was stuck in her dorm room working on a robotics assignment while everyone else was out getting trashed. When she’d pressed the back button, returning to the text message list screen, her eyes scanned down the side, where the little circles showed a tiny picture of her contacts._

_There was Jasper, who’d so helpfully crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in his picture, Monty, who was cheesing big time, and Raven, who was delivering an impressive side eye. Basically, everyone had portrayed themselves perfectly in a snapshot._

_And then there was the grey head outline next to Bellamy’s texts._

_Clarke frowned, half stomping over to where Bellamy was sitting at a table, talking to Miller._

_“Even he’s in my phone!” Clarke half screamed at them, gesturing wildly to Miller._

_Miller sat there fairly stoically, although he was pretty used to seeing her tipsy and screaming, so that made sense. Bellamy just raised an eyebrow. “Say what now, Princess?”_

_“He has a picture in my phone!” she repeated, scrolling to his name and clicking on the picture. “Yeah, he looks like he’s trying to get a job working security for Snoop Dog, but it’s still a picture!”_

_Bellamy choked a little on his beer. “Let me see,” he said eagerly, reaching for her phone._

_She handed it over, and Bellamy immediately started laughing at Miller’s ‘I’m a badass pose,’ which involved crossed arms, a raised chin, and a death glare. “Dude. The Secret Service called. They wanted me to tell you you’re fired.”_

_“Fuck. You.” Miller replied, picking up his beer and heading to where Jasper, Monty, and Octavia were playing pool on the other side of the bar._

_Bellamy handed Clarke’s phone back, still grinning at his best friend’s unfortunate pose._

_Clarke pressed a few buttons, bringing up Bellamy’s chat, then turning the phone toward him again. “And then there’s you. I’m talking to a creepy shadow head, Bellamy!”_

_“I think you’ll survive, Princess,” he said, taking another swig from his beer bottle._

_“No. No, I won’t. Send me a picture!” Clarke replied stubbornly. She wasn’t sure why this was suddenly so important to her, but it was._

_He scowled. “It’s not like I just take random pictures of myself. I’m a few years too old for the selfie generation,_ thank God. _”_

_“I refuse to text a shadow head! Let me take your damn picture.”_

_“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he sighed._

_“Nope.”_

_“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Go ahead.”_

_Clarke held up her phone, prepared to use the camera, but the face she saw through it had her glaring right back. “Bellamy Blake, if I wanted a picture of someone giving me the death glare, I would’ve asked Murphy. Smile, you jackass.”_

_“No.”_

_Clarke set her phone on the table unceremoniously, immediately walking to Bellamy’s side…and tickling him._

_He looked completely shocked…whether it was from her close proximity or the tickling, she really didn’t know. “What are you DOING?” he asked, trying not to laugh as he hopped off the stool, backing away from her._

_“Please. I’ve lived with your sister for three years. I know all your weaknesses, Blake,” Clarke replied, her fingers again finding his ribs._

_They jostled against each other for a few seconds, until she eventually had him backed against the wall._

_“Fine! You can take your damn picture!” Bellamy gave in, trying to sound pissed but not really succeeding when he had a grin on his face and his voice was slightly breathless._

_“And you’ll smile like a good little boy?” Clarke asked._

_It was only then that she realized that she’d literally backed him against the wall. Her hands, which had paused in their assault, had come to rest on his waist, and his, which had been on her upper arms, trying to push her away, were now just resting there. They were only a few inches apart, and suddenly their breathlessness seemed…not so innocent._

_Bellamy’s gaze seemed to burn a hole into her, it was so intense. “I never claimed to be good, Clarke,” he finally answered, and it somehow seemed charged. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a sexual innuendo or if there was some deeper meaning behind it…or both._

_Clarke blinked a few times, still staring up at him. “For me?” she asked quietly._

_He just continued looking down at her, his chest rising and falling a little too rapidly, until she moved her hands, gently poking her index fingers into his sides in a not-so-veiled threat._

_He snorted, finally releasing her. “Princess always has to get her way, doesn’t she?” he muttered, but it didn’t sound like a jibe, it almost sounded fond._

_Clarke smiled, grabbing her phone and moving a few steps from him. “Say cheese!”_

_He put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking at the floor somewhere behind her and shuffling around a little._

_She knew he didn’t like having his picture taken solo; he always tried to draw other people in with him, probably to take the focus off himself. “Bell, just look at me,” she said gently._

_And he did._

_She’d snapped the picture quickly, and just a few seconds later, the rest of the group had come charging in, asking whose turn it was to buy a new round._

_Bellamy had quickly volunteered, even though everyone knew it was Jasper’s turn, and Octavia had immediately pulled Clarke into a side conversation about whether or not Atom the bartender was cute._

_Clarke hadn’t really gotten a chance to study the picture until a few hours later, after Bellamy had dropped her and Octavia off at their apartment._

_She’d been half asleep before she remembered it, and had rolled over to grab her phone off the nightstand, pulling up her gallery._

_There was Bellamy, all broad shoulders, curly hair, and freckles. His head was tilted down, from when he’d still been resistant, and his eyes were looking up at her from underneath his unruly curls…and the look on his face…_

_Clarke frowned, trying to remember what she’d said just before she took it._

‘ _Bell, just look at me._ ’

_When he had, his smile was boyish…the one he reserved for when he was being shy or sincere about something. And the look in his eyes…Clarke would have described it as affection…or even adoration…if she didn’t know any better._

_She’d shaken herself out of it, saved the picture to his contact information, and then passed out._

Present day Clarke was still sitting in her running car, staring at that picture. She’d glanced at it often over the years, especially during the time she’d abandoned everything good in her life. It had hurt, seeing what she was depriving herself of…who she was depriving herself of, but it had also given her some measure of peace, because she knew Bellamy was out there somewhere.

It also reminded her of one of her favorite memories of all time. It was now three years later, and she could still picture those few minutes like they’d happened yesterday.

He’d been embarrassed…but he looked like a goddamn model and he didn’t even know it.

Clarke studied his expression for what must have been the millionth time. He looked shy…he looked affectionate…he looked almost…enamored.

Had he always looked at her like that?

She blinked, turning off her phone and setting it in the cup holder before finally shifting her car into reverse and backing out of the parking spot.

Not only was she hosting Friendsgiving with her best friend and the man she was pretty sure she was in love with, but she was also staying with him for the next few days.

Yeah. She wasn’t making questionable decisions _at all._


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a heads up: starting with this chapter, there will be mentions of drug abuse and childhood trauma. Also, please forgive me if I portray anything regarding them (or anything medical) inaccurately.

“I don’t think I realized how much work this was going to be,” Clarke sighed, sitting down at the counter while glancing over her grandmother’s stuffing recipe.

Bellamy chuckled, coming to glance over her shoulder. “It’s not that bad. We just have to make sure we have the cornbread made ahead of time. Your baking expertise does extend to cornbread…right?”

She rolled her eyes, reaching back to smack him lightly on the chest. “Yes, I can make cornbread. If it involves an actual, measurable recipe and specific oven instructions, I’m golden. It’s all that…’cook until soft’ or ‘cook until browned’ shit that I can’t handle. What is soft? What is brown? Ask Crayola, I’m pretty sure there are like 57 different shades of brown. I’m a science person, Bellamy. I need specifics. Baking is basically like a science experiment. That’s why I’m good at it.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘don’t set off the smoke alarm’ is a pretty general rule you’d think you’d be able to remember.”

Without looking, she reached her hand back to smack him again.

He caught it, giving her fingers a squeeze before releasing it and walking around to the other side of the counter so he was facing her. “Hey…would you be alright if I left for a few hours?”

Clarke glanced up in surprise. Aside from a quick trip to pick up take out, he’d never left her alone in his apartment before, although she guessed circumstances were different, since she was spending a few days with him instead of a few hours.

She took in his outfit, just now noticing that he’d changed out of his comfortable clothes and was now wearing black jeans and a grey V-neck sweater.

“Uh…yeah. That’s…fine,” Clarke managed, not sure how to respond.

She wanted to ask why he was dressed up. She wanted to ask where he was going at 9 am on Thanksgiving morning.

Instead she asked, “Are you going to be back in time to…” gesturing toward the kitchen, where bags of groceries still sat on the counter.

“Yeah, of course. I should be back by noon.”

“Oh. Okay,” Clarke replied, feeling slightly awkward.

Bellamy was rarely ever less than forthcoming with her, so his sudden withholding of information felt unnatural. She wanted to ask what was going on, but she didn’t want to pry since he apparently had some reason for not telling her.

“Do you…want me to leave?” she asked hesitantly.

“No!” he answered immediately, sighing and rubbing his hand over his face like he did when he was agitated. “…I’m going to visit my mom.”

_Oh._

“Oh,” Clarke said, out loud this time. “Sorry, I…forgot…God, I know that sounds horrible…”

He smiled sadly, shrugging his shoulders. “No, it doesn’t. It’s not like I talk about her or anything.”

“You still go see her once a month?”

He nodded. “And on holidays.”

Clarke reached across the counter, placing her hand on his.

Bellamy and Octavia both had a very difficult relationship with their mother, Aurora, who had gotten addicted to drugs shortly after Octavia’s birth, leaving Bellamy to raise his younger sister when he was just a child himself. From what Clarke had learned over the years, money was always non-existent, food was often scarce, and their mother had performed virtually the same role as a piece of furniture in their lives most of the time.

When Bellamy was 16 and Octavia 10, Aurora had been high and took a particularly nasty fall down the stairs of the ratty apartment building they’d been living in. She’d badly injured her spine, making walking again virtually impossible, and surgery was out of the question once the doctors realized how badly her chronic drug use had damaged her heart. With no other options available, she’d been put in a state-run facility an hour away, where she could get the round-the-clock care she needed.

Octavia had been sent to live with a cousin a few towns away, and Bellamy had temporarily moved in with Miller and his family, working every spare minute of the day to save money. The only thing that stopped him from dropping out of school was the knowledge that the court system would be less likely to grant him custody of Octavia if he didn’t have a high school diploma.

Clarke couldn’t even imagine how rough the next few years were on both siblings, and she had to fill in some of the blanks for herself since neither one of them liked to talk about it, but she knew that Bellamy had finally gotten custody of Octavia when he was 19.

Aurora remained at the long-term care facility, and her health continued to decline over the years. The last Clarke had heard, the drugs had also done irreparable damage to her brain, leaving her prone to seizures and what appeared to be early-onset dementia.

“How is she doing? I’m so sorry I haven’t asked,” Clarke said sincerely, feeling awful that she hadn’t inquired sooner.

“Don’t be,” he insisted. “She’s not great. Her seizures have been increasing, her heart is getting weaker, and she’s more out of it every time I visit.”

Clarke’s heart clenched for him. “Do you want me to go with you?” she asked quietly.

His eyes met hers in surprise, but he just shook his head.

“Bell…I will. You don’t have to be…embarrassed or whatever. I’m a doctor, remember? I just… Let me be there for you.”

“No.”

She pulled her hand back, hurt by his dismissal and not sure why he seemed so adamant about it.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he seemed to gather himself. He braced his hands on the counter, looking up at her. “Clarke…you’re the best part of my life too,” he said, referring to how she’d described him to her mother. “And I want to keep the best part separate from…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Clarke knew what he was going to say. _‘…the worst part.’_

She wasn’t sure whether to feel giddy about his characterization of her as the best part of his life or heartbroken that he’d been put through the emotional wringer since he was a child because of his mother’s actions.

She got up, walking around to his side of the counter, immediately wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to, you know,” she said quietly against his chest.

His arms circled her back, and she could feel his breath ruffle the top of her hair. “I know.”

She stayed where she was, trying to give him as much strength as she could, knowing that what he was about to do wasn’t going to be easy on him.

“Will you be here when I get back?” he asked, and it almost sounded like a plea.

“Yes,” she promised.

She felt him nod, then take a deep breath before releasing her.

He grabbed his keys, not quite meeting her gaze as he headed for the door. “Be back soon.”

“Tell her ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ from me.”

Bellamy nodded, walking out and pulling the door shut behind him.

Clarke stood there for a moment, trying to pull herself together, her heart still breaking for him.

She’d just picked up the recipe for corn bread when her cell phone vibrated.

Bellamy: _wait till I get back to start on the pies?_

Clarke: _afraid I’m going to burn your apt down?_

Bellamy: _no_

Clarke thought about it for a minute, remembering that she and Bellamy had always done that part together. Maybe he just wanted that tradition to continue.

Clarke: _okay._

Bellamy: _thanks, Princess_

Clarke spent the next hour or so baking cornbread, talking to her mom on the phone, scrolling through the television channels, and generally worrying about Bellamy. Just after 10 am, she texted Raven.

Clarke: _Might need to borrow some stuff from you? Plates, silverware, serving stuff. I don’t think Bellamy has enough._

Raven: _Sure. For a small fee._

Clarke: _(side eye emoji) First born child? Kidney?_

Raven: _Jesus Griffin I was going to say a drumstick but I should’ve known you’d go straight to the weird dramatic medical shit_

Clarke snorted, because that giant run-on sentence sounded exactly like Raven when she read it in her head.

Clarke: _Punctuation is your friend, Reyes. I could get used to being called Jesus Griffin though._  

Raven: _Bite. Me._

Clarke: _See? Much better._

Raven: _Do you want to come see what you need or should I just start chucking stuff off my balcony and hope you’re down there?_

Clarke: _…so I can catch it or so you can kill me with it?_

Raven: _Either. I’m not particular._

Clarke chuckled, grabbing her keys out of her coat pocket and pulling Bellamy’s door shut behind her as she walked out into the hallway.

After a short trip down one elevator, across a chilly courtyard, and back up another elevator, Clarke was knocking on Raven’s door.

“That was fast. You were worried about my threat of projectiles, weren’t you?” Raven quipped, letting her in.

“You caught me,” Clarke laughed, shrugging.

“I thought it was going to take you like 30 minutes to get here, not 30 seconds. Are you and Bellamy already making dinner?”

“Hmm? No, not really. I was over at his place though.”

“Huh.” Raven said, looking a little too curious for Clarke’s liking. “So why didn’t he come with you?”

“He’s…not home.”

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “He’s not at his apartment…but you are?”

“Yes?”

Raven just continued to stare at her questioningly.

“He went to visit his mom,” Clarke said quietly.

“Oh!” Raven’s expression softened. “Damn. I always forget…”

“I know. I almost did too.”

Raven walked into her kitchen, grabbing two mugs and filling them with coffee, motioning for Clarke to have a seat at her tiny kitchen table before she joined her.

“Have you ever met her?” Raven asked curiously.

“Aurora? No.”

“Really? You’ve been friends with the Blakes for years though, right? Like…really good friends.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I offered to go with Bellamy today and I used to offer to go with Octavia all the time…but neither of them wanted me to,” Clarke sighed, taking a sip of her coffee, which Raven made so strong it resembled tar. “Of course, Octavia rarely ever goes, so…”

“Really?”

Clarke nodded. “I’m not judging her…I’m not sure I could go at all if I were her. I’m not sure how Bellamy manages to go all the time, truth be told.”

“Shit, that’s rough.”

Clarke just nodded again, taking another sip of her coffee.

Raven let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds before changing the topic. “I’m still not following though. Why did you go to his apartment just as he was leaving?”

Clarke sighed, pursing her lips when she realized that her friend wasn’t going to let this go. “I’m staying with Bellamy. I was already there.”

“You’re…’staying’ with him?”

“My mom is in Chicago on a consult for a few days. I get a little creeped out staying at the house by myself…plus we had Friendsgiving to do…so he offered to let me stay with him.”

“In his one bedroom apartment?” Raven was starting to smirk and Clarke didn’t like it.

“He has a couch,” Clarke said defensively.

What? He did.

“And he lets you sleep on said couch?” Raven asked dubiously. Bellamy’s chivalry was well known amongst their friends.

“Yes?”

Raven’s expression only grew more suspicious. “He lets you sleep on the couch while he sleeps in bed?”

Clarke let out a huff, glancing at the toaster as she quietly admitted, “No.”

Raven’s expression again morphed into something of a smirk. “Spill, Griffin.”

“We usually end up falling asleep on the couch watching TV, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“You fall asleep like…for an hour, or for the entire night?”

Clarke could feel a blush rising to her cheeks. “The entire night?”

There was no way Clarke was going to willingly volunteer the information that they’d recently started sharing a bed; she wasn’t a glutton for punishment.

“Clarke.”

“Raven.”

The brunette gave her an exasperated glare. “This is getting ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“I…don’t know what you mean.”

“You two have been dancing around each other for _years_. Don’t you think it’s time to stop the madness?”

Clarke was resolutely shaking her head. “He doesn’t…”

Raven snorted. “The hell he doesn’t. I’ve never seen him look at _anyone_ the way he looks at you. I’m pretty sure the whole ‘must protect her at all costs’ shtick he does for you surpasses even the one he does for Octavia.”

Clarke shrugged. “He’s a good friend.”

“Clarke, don’t give me that bullshit. He’s crazy about you and you know it.”

“I don’t… I can’t.”

Raven frowned, leaning closer. “ _Why?_ ”

Clarke stared into the black liquid in her cup, as if it could give her the answers. If only Raven would have served tea instead. “I can’t lose him.”

Raven reached across the table, putting a comforting hand on Clarke’s arm. “You won’t!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Clarke shook her head again. “I can’t take that chance. I’m just starting to get my life back together and…” she sighed, again glancing to the side. “I know exactly what it feels like to not have him. I can’t handle the possibility of that right now.”

Raven sat back in her chair, studying Clarke with eyes that seemed to have laser vision. “So, you’re just going to keep sleeping with him…platonically…and hosting Thanksgiving dinner with him…platonically…and generally being in love with him…platonically?”

Clarke’s gaze flew to meet Raven’s at those last few words. “I didn’t say anything about…”

Raven cut her off with a mere glance of disapproval through narrowed eyes.

Clarke sighed, giving in. “Yes?”

“This is ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“So you said.”

“Yeah, well, the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it becomes.”

Clarke shrugged, smiling a little at her friend’s exasperation.

“And he’s probably too much of a gentleman to make the first move,” Raven mused out loud.

Clarke may have had that same thought a time or two herself. “Probably.”

Raven made a low noise of disapproval. “What’s it going to take for you guys to get your heads out of your asses? A fucking nuclear apocalypse?”

Clarke smirked self-deprecatingly. “Probably not even then.”

Raven threw her hands up in defeat, then thunked them down on the table, pushing herself to a standing position.

Clarke grabbed one of her hands insistently. “Raven…don’t do anything about this, okay?”

Raven looked down at her, clearly not happy about the request.

“Please? He’s…he’s too important. I can’t…not yet.”

Raven studied her for a minute before finally nodding.

Clarke smiled gratefully, her other hand finally relaxing its grip on Raven’s poor coffee mug.

“So, how many plates do you need?” Raven asked, heading for the cabinets.

 

* * *

 

 

Right around two hours later found Clarke sitting at Bellamy’s counter, reading through one of her medical textbooks. Exams were coming up and she always snuck in a few minutes of study time anywhere she could.

Since she’d already made the cornbread, wished her mom a Happy Thanksgiving, and borrowed all the extra dining essentials she needed from Raven, she needed _something_ to distract her from worrying about Bellamy, so she’d pulled out her test prep stuff.

She’d spent the last 20 minutes rereading the same page though, so she wasn’t sure how effective her strategy was.

Finally, she heard a key turning in the lock. A few seconds later, Bellamy pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He looked tired, disheartened, and frankly, he looked around five years older than when he’d left just a few hours ago. He just looked…defeated.

His gaze immediately searched for her.

Before she could even process, she was moving across the floor to him, and he to her.

She wrapped her arms firmly around his neck, drawing his body tightly against hers.

His arms were wound around her waist, his breath ruffling the hair behind her ear.

She kept pulling him closer until he finally started to relax some of his weight against her. Eventually, she felt him take what seemed like his first deep breath, his chest expanding against hers.

She moved her hand to the back of his head, letting him know that she didn’t want him to move it off her shoulder yet. “How is she?” she asked quietly, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

He sighed against her shoulder. “Not great.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

He slowly released her, but he only stepped back a few inches as he repeated what the doctors had told him.

Clarke understood the medical terms better than he did, of course, so they spent a few moments discussing her condition.

“It doesn’t sound great, does it?” he asked.

Clarke could feel tears coming to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing his arm to pull him into another hug.

This time, he leaned against her with little prompting. “Every time I go see her, I get so…” he trailed off, making a frustrated noise.

Clarke could imagine some of the rest of that sentence, _‘…sad, angry, depressed, frustrated.’_

“And I just want to leave and never go back…but then I feel guilty that I don’t go more than I already do. It’s a vicious cycle,” he tried to make it a joke, but failed.

Clarke closed her eyes, her heart literally clenching at how much he was hurting. She turned, pressing a firm kiss into his hair. “Bell…you’re a good man.”

He made a noise of dissent against her shoulder.

She pulled back, her hands on the sides of his neck to make sure he was looking at her. “You’re _such_ a good man,” she said adamantly. 

His hands clenched on her waist as he just stared down at her, his eyes searching hers a little desperately as if he _wanted_ to believe her, but couldn’t.

“I’m not making shit up to make you feel better,” she promised, her thumbs unconsciously running along his jawline. “You’re the best man I know, Bellamy Blake.”

“You need to meet more people,” he muttered dryly.

“No, I don’t. I have exactly who I’m supposed to in my life.”

He studied her for a few seconds before the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Yeah, me too,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Thanks, Princess.”

She’d closed her eyes at the contact, and only opened them when she felt him release her.

“I…uh…think we might have crushed the flowers,” he said, his face a little red as he looked on the counter beside her.

Clarke’s eyebrows rose. “Flowers?” she asked, turning to follow his gaze.

On the counter was a bouquet of fall flowers, mostly deep reds, purples, and oranges, with some greenery thrown in.

“When did you get flowers?!” she asked, still surprised, mostly because she hadn’t even noticed them when he’d come in.

He shrugged, looking more uncomfortable by the second. “I passed a stand on my way home. Thought if we were doing Thanksgiving…might as well do it right, right?”

Clarke practically beamed at him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek before rooting through his cupboards to find something to put them in.

“Uh, yeah, pretty sure I don’t have a vase,” he said from behind her.

Clarke turned around as the metaphorical lightbulb went off over her head. She reached in the box she’d brought from Raven’s apartment, pulling out an old fashioned ceramic pitcher.

She’d borrowed it with the thought that she could use it to serve lemonade or iced tea or something of the sort, but screw beverages, this was more important.

She quickly unwrapped the bouquet, added water to the pitcher, then arranged the flowers in it.

When she was done, she stepped back to admire her handiwork and then turned to Bellamy with a ‘Tada!’ only to find that he was watching her, his expression ridiculously fond.

She blinked, remembering what she’d been asking herself a few days before. _Had he always looked at her like that?_

Apparently, the answer was yes.

She said the only thing that came to mind. “Pie?”

He smiled, his expression becoming even more adoring, if that was possible. “God, yes.”


	19. Chapter 19

 

Clarke stood back, holding the door and watching as Jasper, Monty, Raven, and Miller all filed past her carrying various items. They then set those items on the tiny portion of counter that was available.

“What is all this??” Clarke asked, trying to lift up a corner of the tinfoil that was covering one of the dishes Miller had brought.

Miller promptly scooted the dish out of her reach. “Oven on warm?”

“Yep,” Bellamy said, scooting to the side a little so Miller could open the door.

Miller promptly placed 2 dishes inside, then looked at what was cooking on the stove.

“This gravy isn’t getting thick enough,” Bellamy muttered, whisking the contents of the skillet he’d been standing over for the last 10 minutes.

Miller promptly elbowed him out of the way, taking over. “Did you add white wine?” he asked.

“Uhh…” Bellamy so helpfully responded.

Miller rolled his eyes. “Do you _have_ any white wine?”

Bellamy reached in the fridge, pulling out the bottle Clarke kept there and handing it over.

Miller worked quickly and surprisingly efficiently, adding a bit of wine, turning up the heat, and whisking, all while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “You never add enough pepper.”

By the time Bellamy turned back to look at the rest of the group, they were all watching the scene in front of them with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Whaaaat is this?” Clarke asked.

Raven, who looked the least surprised, responded, “I don’t know, but Miller showed up at my apartment 20 minutes ago and took over my kitchen, doing something with lemons and raw eggs?”

Miller made a frustrated noise from the stove. “Hollandaise. For the asparagus.”

When there was no response, he turned around, finally noticing everyone’s rapt attention on him. “What? I was afraid it would break if I tried to make it at my apartment and bring it all the way over here.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Miller??” Jasper asked, his voice going into octaves it should never reach.

Miller merely rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the gravy.

Bellamy, however, chuckled and took pity on the others. “Miller is sort of an amateur professional chef. Where do you think I learned to cook?”

Clarke was frowning at this new piece of information. “But…Octavia said you always cooked for her when she was a kid…”

“Yeah. Eggs, spaghetti with jarred marinara, sloppy joes…nothing great. The couple years I crashed at the Millers’ was like one giant cooking show; you know, the one where they force you to cook weird stuff and yell at you when you don’t do it perfectly?” Bellamy teased, smacking Miller on the arm. “This guy is legit. Watches Food Network and everything.”

“Miller? Our Miller? How did I not know he was hot for Julia Child this whole time? Or wait. I’m sorry. That was stupid. I guess you’d be more of a Bobby Flay guy?” Monty quipped.

Miller turned around, glaring at them. “You know I can kick all your asses, right? Do you want me to inflict bodily harm on you morons or make a decent gravy? Because I can’t do both and Raven’s mashed potatoes are gonna need something to make them edible.” He cast a look of pity at the large bowl she’d brought.

“Listen, asshole. Not all of us are Guy Fieri wannabes. Some of us happen to have lives. They said bring a side dish, so I brought a side dish. Not my fault if it’s not great. You need your car fixed? Your stereo? I’m your girl. Need non-lumpy mashed potatoes? Call someone else,” Raven retorted.

“Please. My hair is way better than Guy Fieri’s,” Miller grumbled, still facing the stove.

“…you don’t _have_ any hair…” Jasper helpfully supplied.

“Exactly,” Miller said dryly.

It turned out that Miller was indeed a fantastic cook, and with the asparagus with hollandaise sauce and sweet potato casserole with bourbon candied pecans (‘For fuck’s sake, Jasper, I’m not your grandmother. No, I didn’t put marshmallows on it. Eat like a goddamn adult, will ya?’) he’d brought, paired with the turkey, cornbread stuffing, and dinner rolls Bellamy and Clarke had made, and the lumpy mashed potatoes Raven had contributed, (Miller was correct; thank God for gravy,) they managed to have a delicious Friendsgiving dinner sitting on the floor around Bellamy’s coffee table.

Clarke had also surprised Bellamy with another Skype call, this time from both Octavia and Lincoln, who joined their Friendsgiving virtually from the laptop balanced on the couch.

Clarke was currently standing at Bellamy’s counter, looking at the group still assembled in the living room. She was supposed to be cutting the pies she and Bellamy had made earlier, but she was mostly just hoping that being in a vertical position would help with the whole ‘I’m so full, I feel like I’m going to explode’ problem.

She pulled a little on the elastic waist of her sleeveless maroon dress, thanking her lucky stars that she’d worn a dress with her riding boots instead of jeans, because tight denim sounded like twelve kinds of torture right about now. (The dress also had a flutter top, which Clarke was currently using to hide what felt like an impressive food baby, and she wasn’t even a little sorry about it.)

Bellamy rounded the counter, coming into the kitchen with her and setting a coffee mug on the counter beside her.

“Is this Jasper and Monty’s concoction?” she asked.

The boys had been tasked with providing the alcohol for tonight’s gathering, partially because they were kind of the experts at it and partially because no one wanted to eat anything those two attempted to cook.

“Mmhmm.”

She eyed it dubiously. “Is it safe to drink?”

He chuckled. “It’s delicious, actually. Probably has a higher octane rating than gasoline, but it tastes fucking great.”

She shrugged. “Sold,” she said, taking a sip. Her eyes widened. “It tastes like apple pie. But not some overly sugary mixed drink. It actually tastes like apple pie.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“How did they…?”

“They were saying something about apple cider and moonshine, but honestly, it’s probably better not to ask.”

Clarke tilted her head in agreement.

“Do you need help cutting the pies or are you just standing here hoping you can retroactively refuse that third helping of Miller’s sweet potato casserole?”

Clarke held up her finger, gesturing at nothing. “That last one.”

Bellamy chuckled, moving close to her back and putting his hands on her hips.

She sighed, leaning some of her weight against him as she pressed her back to his front.

They stood there in pretty perfect contentment, full of delicious food and surrounded by almost all of the people they loved most in the world.

Miller looked like he was asleep against the bottom of the couch, Jasper was lying on the floor, moaning every few minutes but still trying to drink his apple pie moonshine, and Monty was bowed over, his forehead leaning against the coffee table in what almost looked like prayer, but was probably just a food coma.

Raven, on the other hand, was still picking pecans off the top of Miller’s casserole and popping them into her mouth. “Jesus. You call yourselves men? My grandma could eat more than you three put together.”

Clarke snorted, taking another sip of her drink.

Bellamy chuckled, his chest moving against her back. “Do you ever feel like we’re the parents and they’re our bratty but adorable kids?” he asked quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

She nodded. “All. The. Time.”

She noticed Raven look up, finally tearing her attention away from the leftovers long enough to glance into the kitchen.

Clarke met her gaze, noticing the smirk that appeared on the other girl’s face.

Realizing that she and Bellamy were basically cuddling in the kitchen in front of their friends, Clarke cleared her throat, stepping forward and getting ready to cut into the pumpkin pies. “Would you hand me the plates?”

Bellamy did, helping her dish it up, add whipped cream, and carry them all into the living room.

Everyone, except Raven, groaned, but they all managed to eat their slice anyway.

Jasper roused himself enough to hold up his water glass, which was filled with his apple pie creation. “Best Friendsgiving ever?!”

Everyone else held up their mismatched glasses, also filled with the boys’ concoction.

Clarke turned to smile at Bellamy, only to find he was already smiling back at her as they all clinked glasses and agreed that it was, indeed, the best Friendsgiving ever.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was a short chapter of fluffy delinquent bonding, because who doesn't love delinquent bonding and Iron Chef Miller? Also, the next couple of chapters aren't going to be so fluffy. #spoileralert #sorryinadvance


	20. Chapter 20

 

Clarke accepted the drink Raven handed her, smiling at the other girl in thanks right before she took a sip. Captain and Coke…a little heavy on the Captain, just the way she liked it.

Her hips swayed unconsciously from side to side, keeping time to the music as she glanced around the bar, still sipping her drink.

She smiled when her eyes landed on Bellamy, who was currently engaged in a game of pool with Miller and Bryan. It only took a few seconds for him to return her gaze from the other side of the room. His lips quirked upward when he noticed her loose movements and serenely happy expression; he knew it meant she was in her perfectly buzzed happy place. His eyebrows raised in a silent question, asking if she needed anything.

She just continued to beam at him, holding her glass up in a toast.

He chuckled, giving her a half-assed version of a two-fingered salute before turning away to take his turn at the pool table.

Clarke’s mellow mood was abruptly interrupted when someone grabbed her elbow, almost making her spill her drink, but the minute she turned and saw that Harper was the culprit, her indignation turned back into joy.

“Harper!”

The other blonde grinned, taking her hand and pulling. “Come on! Dance with me and Maya!”

Sure enough, the petite brunette was standing behind Harper, looking a little more reserved, but eager, nonetheless.

Clarke held up a finger. “Hang on,” she said, tilting her head back as she downed the rest of her drink, then plunked the empty glass down on the table. “Okay!”

She walked with the other two girls to the dance floor, immediately picking up the beat of the song and moving accordingly.

They danced as well as any drunk and mostly uncoordinated people do, but they were having a blast, which was all they cared about.

Clarke moved from her current dancing spot, back-to-back with Harper, to grab Maya by the hands, jumping around and pulling with alternating arms, doing the sort of dancing she’d probably last done in middle school.

Clarke was giggling as she again looked over at the pool table and saw Bellamy leaning on his cue stick, watching them fondly, a grin on his face.

She felt a little ridiculous…and she also felt ridiculously happy.

She was cognizant enough to realize that it wasn’t just the alcohol making her feel that way; in all reality it had very little to do with it. She was just _happy_. She had a great job that she loved, she was rebuilding a decent relationship with her mother, she had amazing friends, old and new, and she had Bellamy, who played so many different roles in her life, but mostly, he just made everything better.

Clarke thought back to this time last year…even this time six or seven months ago…and she couldn’t believe she got to be this lucky.

If she was honest, there was one person that she needed to thank properly for helping her get here, and she almost couldn’t believe her eyes when she turned and saw him leaning against the bar.

Impulsively, she left the dance floor, heading over to him. When she stepped up beside him, she noticed he was talking to someone she vaguely remembered from undergrad.

Finn clasped the other man on the shoulder, nodding in Clarke’s direction and asking for a minute of privacy.

The other man nodded at Clarke, then picked up his beer and joined a group gathered around the other end of the bar.

“Clarke,” Finn said by way of greeting, looking both surprised and pleased to see her.

“Hey,” she said, smiling a little shyly at him.

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I…” Clarke paused, biting her lip as she tried to decide how to proceed. “I need to thank you for what you did.”

Finn was shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. “No, you don’t, Clarke. Plus, you already did, and you didn’t need to then either.”

“No, I need to do it properly. I know I’ve been really…rude and standoffish since…everything happened with Raven.” She held up a hand. “Which, to be fair, you totally deserved, by the way.”

Finn chuckled, but without much humor. “Yeah, I really did.”

Clarke gave him a pointed look of agreement. “But, my point is…You didn’t have to help me, especially after the way I’d behaved.”

He was again shaking his head. “Clarke…I’m a doctor. You know that’s what we do.”

She put her hand on his arm, which was resting on the bar. “You risked your job for me, Finn. That was above and beyond. And…I could tell that you genuinely cared about me.”

“Of _course_ I do, Clarke. But what brought this up now?”

Clarke shrugged, smiling a little. “I just had some sort of epiphany about how good my life is now…how happy I am. I couldn’t even imagine it six months ago. And…I wouldn’t be here…I wouldn’t have the chance to have all this if it weren’t for you.”

Finn continued to look at her a little unsurely.

“I’m serious. You saved my life. And waking up to you and Octavia, both worried as hell about me and trying to hide me from my mother…” Clarke paused, chuckling a little at that memory. “It made me realize that there were still good people in this world, and that I did still have people who cared about me. I’m not kidding when I say that made all the difference. I thought…” She glanced away, looking down at the ring his drink had left on the bar. “I thought maybe I was too far gone at that point.”

Finn’s free hand came up to rest on her shoulder. “Clarke…never. You’ll always have people who care about you, me included.”

“I know that now. So… _like I said_ ,” she grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

They both moved forward, sharing a friendly hug.

Finn pulled back a few inches, looking down at her while his arms were still around her back. “I’m never going to convince you to take me back, am I?” he asked dejectedly, as if he already knew the answer.

Clarke smiled back at him a little sadly. For all the hell he’d put her through, they had been close and he had meant a lot to her, once upon a time. “No.”

He nodded. “I was an idiot, but…”

Clarke tilted her head a little. “But what?”

He shrugged. “How was I supposed to choose?”

Clarke just stared at him for a moment before she started laughing. “Okay. Fair point.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “You don’t hate me anymore?”

Clarke shook her head.

“I can live with that,” he said, pulling her back to give her a final hug.

They both jumped a little when an angry voice spoke from right beside them. “You know, I always knew you were a son of a bitch, but trying to take advantage of a girl while she’s drunk? Especially when you know she wants nothing to do with you? That’s a new low, even for you, Spacewalker.”

Clarke quickly turned her head, seeing Bellamy standing just a few feet beside her, glaring at Finn.

She immediately turned toward him. “Bellamy…”

He didn’t even look at her, his glare remaining on the man beside her. “And you’ve always tried to convince her you still love her. Is this how you treat women you love, Spacewalker? Make moves while they’re drunk? Well, I guess we already knew how you treat the women you claim to love, don’t we?”

Clarke felt Finn tense beside her and, okay, that one was a low blow. True…but a low blow, nonetheless.

“You might want to check with your girlfriend, Blake. She’s the one that came to me, not the other way around.”

Clarke didn’t even have time to process the ‘girlfriend’ comment, because Bellamy’s eyes swung accusatorily toward her with Finn’s pronouncement.

His eyes searched her face for a moment, no doubt seeing the truth written there, as well as noticing that she looked fairly sober by now. “Why?” he asked, clearly confused.

Finn couldn’t resist adding in a final jab at the man he’d never liked. “You know, Clarke, I understand why you can’t take me back, I do. But you can do so much better than this Neanderthal.”

Clarke put a hand on Bellamy’s chest, stopping him before he could take another step forward. “Jesus Christ. Can you two stop being so…testosteroney?” She couldn’t help adding, under her breath, “I should’ve stuck to girls.”

“What was that?” Bellamy asked, looking at her oddly.

“Nothing,” Clarke said quickly. “Are you two done?” she asked both men.

They both grumbled.

“Okay, great. Finn, stop being an ass. Bellamy was just trying to protect me, and you know that.” She waited for Finn to mumble what she assumed was an affirmative before turning to look at Bellamy. “And, yes, I came over here to talk to Finn.”

“Why?!”

Clarke sighed, deciding it was time to let the final cat out of the bag. “Let’s go outside.”

She nodded a goodbye to Finn before leading Bellamy out the door and down the sidewalk a few feet so they weren’t right in front of the entrance.

Bellamy didn’t even wait for her to turn around before asking, “What’s going on, Clarke? I thought you hated the guy?”

Clarke slowly turned around to face him. “I…no. Not really…Not anymore, at least.”

Bellamy looked dismayed. “But…what he did…to you and to Raven…how can you…?”

She quickly cut him off, shaking her head adamantly. “Bell, it’s not…romantic. It’s not about that, I promise.”

He looked slightly relieved, but still confused. “Then what?”

“I needed to thank him. Properly.”

“For what?!”

Clarke took a deep breath, turning her head to look at the bricks beside her. A shiver worked its way through her, and she wasn’t sure if it was the chill in the air or the knowledge that what she was about to say could ruin this new life of happiness she’d just been celebrating.

Bellamy must have noticed her shiver, because he immediately shrugged off his green flannel shirt, putting it around her shoulders. “You’re scaring me here, Princess.”

Clarke put her arms into the sleeves, gratefully pulling it on over the black sweater she was wearing. “You’re going to freeze,” she told him, nodding toward the thin grey long-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing.

“I’m fine,” he said, in a no-nonsense tone that told her he wasn’t about to be distracted from the point of their conversation.

Clarke bit her bottom lip, her hands unconsciously balling into fists as she gathered as much courage as she could to tell the man she loved most in the world her deepest darkest secret, all the while knowing it was going to break his heart. “He saved my life,” she finally admitted.

Bellamy’s brow furrowed, some of his confusion turning to worry. “What? How?”

“I…” Clarke looked up, already having to will the tears away. “I OD’d.”

It took a few seconds before she finally convinced herself to look at him.

The expression on his face was one she had never seen before. It was some mixture of disbelief, sadness, and actual physical pain.

She reached a hand out towards him. “Bell…”

He recoiled. “Just…tell me. All of it,” he said gruffly.

“I…” Clarke wrapped her arms around herself protectively before continuing. “I took some pills…and then we were drinking and partying and…I forgot, and took some more pills.” She swallowed heavily, glancing at the stop sign across the street. “I ended up passed out on the bathroom floor.” She heard an involuntary noise of horror come from Bellamy, but she kept going. “Murphy found me and took me to the hospital. Finn was working in the ER when we got there.”

She paused, taking a few deep breaths as she shuffled her feet, looking at them instead of the man in front of her. “He…took care of me.” She risked a glance at Bellamy.

He was shaking his head. “Everything.”

Yeah, Clarke was afraid he was going to say that. “My heart rate was low, breathing was shallow, and I was drifting in and out of consciousness. I had to have my stomach pumped.”

She paused again, chancing another glance at him. His jaw was set and he was staring at a point over her shoulder.

She continued, “I had to stay in the hospital for a while after so my vitals could be monitored and I could get IV fluids. I was half out of it, but I kept telling Finn that my mom couldn’t know I was there. It was her hospital and Finn was still an intern…he could have gotten fired…but he tried to hide me anyway. Kept me marked down as a Jane Doe, moved me to different rooms when my mom was doing rounds. After a few hours, he got worried about me being there alone…” Clarke braced herself for the next blow she was about to deal. “…so he called Octavia.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to hers. “O??” he asked, his voice a little strangled.

Clarke nodded. “He didn’t know we weren’t talking. He thought she was still my best friend…which I guess she was, because she showed up fifteen minutes later.”

“That’s when you two…” he finally moved, pacing agitatedly in front of her. “Fuck.”

Clarke’s heart broke a little at the pain in his voice. She knew he wasn’t just feeling pain for himself right now, but also for his little sister. “She sat with me all night. When I finally woke up…we talked. We talked about everything.”

Bellamy waited a minute before speaking. “Is there more?”

Clarke sighed, deciding to give him the brief summary of the time between her hospital stay and when she’d come back into his life. “My mom eventually found us. I made her promise not to punish Finn. She took me home and took care of me, and Octavia visited every day for a week. I…made her promise not to tell you.”

She couldn’t tell for sure whether the look on Bellamy’s face was one of disappointment or betrayal. “Don’t be mad at her,” she said quietly.

He just nodded, lips pursed.

“I got better, started talking to my mom again, started my internship in July…then Octavia convinced me to text Raven, who invited me to game night. You know the rest.”

He just nodded again, jaw still locked.

Clarke studied his face, willing him to do something…to say something. “Bell…talk to me.” She couldn’t help herself, she reached out to touch him.

He again moved before she could. “I just…” He put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I need some time, Clarke.”

With that, he turned, walking down the street.

Clarke watched him go, her heart breaking more and more with each step he took away from her.

She sat down against the outside wall of the bar, curling up on herself as she tried not to cry.

Part of her expected Murphy to pop out of the shadows, like he had last time, but apparently she wasn’t even that lucky tonight.

She was alone, and it was all her fault. She’d done the one thing that Bellamy most likely could never forgive.   


	21. Chapter 21

Clarke sat on the sidewalk, leaning against the cold brick wall of the bar for what felt like an eternity.

She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was crying, because every few minutes, she’d reach up to wipe her cheeks, but it wasn’t something she was really aware of. All she was cognizant of was the fact that the man she loved had walked away from her and he probably wasn’t coming back.

She chuckled bitterly at the irony; she’d only recently figured out that she was in love with him…and she’d already lost him. This time was so, so much worse than the last time they’d separated, because this time, she knew exactly what she was losing.

Maybe some people had it right: you should separate friendship and romantic relationships…make sure your lover and your best friend were two different people…because this? Losing your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop? It was agonizing.

Clarke couldn’t even blame him; he’d done nothing wrong. She knew exactly how he would feel about her drug use, and she’d done it anyway.

You couldn’t grow up the way he did, have the baggage that he did, and be okay with someone you care about getting involved in the same toxic mess. Honestly, it was a miracle that Octavia still wanted anything to do with her.

Clarke pulled her knees tighter to her chest, staring down at the small rip on the knee of her jeans, wondering how she could have risked everything for something so stupid.

She became dimly aware of her surroundings, even registering a few pairs of feet walking past her line of vision, but she didn’t bother looking up for any of them. At some point, she ended up clenching her eyes shut.

After what seemed like another eternity, she heard someone walk down the street, eventually stopping in front of her. She opened her eyes, prepared to tell whoever it was to go away, only to see a pair of very familiar boots in front of her.

Her breath caught in her throat, her gaze quickly travelling up a pair of lean legs, a broad torso, and finally coming to rest on a freckled face that she could’ve drawn in her sleep.

Either he’d come back or her mind was playing one hell of a trick on her.

Almost afraid to speak, lest he disappear, she just stared up at him, waiting.

He looked a little like she felt: sad, angry, shell shocked.

He stared down at her, chewing on his lower lip as if he was trying to make up his mind. Finally, he closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

The next minute, he was turning and walking back into the bar, disappearing with a few seconds of loud music and raucous laughter that floated out the open door.

Clarke was unsure what was happening, so she sat there, mostly holding her breath as she wondered, for the tiniest second, if maybe she hadn’t ruined everything.

Luckily, he was back within a minute or two.

He immediately sank down beside her, then draped her coat over her shoulders.  

Clarke glanced at him, noticing he was now wearing his coat too. He must have gotten them from inside the bar.

Bellamy leaned back against the wall beside her, his shoulder a few inches from hers. “I thought you’d go back inside,” he said quietly.

She shook her head, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Couldn’t,” she muttered, voice thick with tears.

 “How many times are you going to try to get hypothermia this month, Clarke?”

She made some sort of unintentional noise that was somewhere between a snort and a hiccup, and she was aware it sounded awful, but she didn’t even care because if Bellamy was simultaneously taking care of her and being sarcastic, maybe she had a shot after all. Another tiny glimmer of optimism took hold, even though she tried to tell herself not to get her hopes up.

Bellamy tilted his head back against the wall, glancing up at the night sky, although Clarke was pretty sure he wasn’t even seeing it.

“Do you know how many times I walked in on my mom passed out?” he asked, voice resigned.

Clarke’s breath caught. “No,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “Me neither. I lost count. A few times on the bathroom floor…” he gestured toward her with his hand, as if to say ‘just like you.’ “Sometimes on the couch or in bed. Once, I even found her slumped over the wheel of her car in the parking lot. It was a miracle she didn’t end up killing somebody that day.”

Clarke listened, discreetly wiping her cheeks again as she watched him relive the anguish he must have felt as a child.

He continued, “Sometimes, I’d shake her and she’d wake up and be fine. Other times, she’d get up, throw up everywhere, and then stumble her way into bed and sleep for days. I’d stick my hand under her nose every few hours to make sure she was still breathing…after I cleaned up after her, of course.”

Clarke must have made an involuntary noise, because Bellamy glanced at her for the first time before again looking away.

He shrugged. “Octavia was a toddler, walking around and getting into everything. I couldn’t let her…” he trailed off.

Clarke’s nose flared as she tried to hold in her sobs. If Octavia was still a toddler, Bellamy couldn’t have been more than eight or nine when this was happening.

“I used to take Octavia to the park after school…one day we came home and found her passed out in the kitchen. I tried shaking her, screaming at her…everything…but she wouldn’t wake up. I had to call 911.”

Clarke waited, but he didn’t continue. “Was she okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah. She was fine. They revived her and took her to the hospital for a few days.”

Clarke knew the story wasn’t over, and she was almost afraid to hear the next part, but she knew she needed to. “Bellamy…”

He took a deep breath. “The paramedics weren’t allowed to leave us home alone, so they called CPS. Octavia ended up in a foster home and I ended up in a group home.”

_Oh, God._

“For how long?” she managed to ask.

“Two weeks. That’s how long it took for Mom to get released from the hospital and then petition the court to get us back.” His jaw clenched, the memory obviously still painful even decades later. “When we finally got back together…O didn’t even care about Mom. She wanted me. Wrapped herself around me like a monkey and cried for hours. Made me promise never to leave her again.”

“How old were you?” Clarke whispered, even though she was terrified of the answer.

Bellamy was staring across the street, his hands gripping each other painfully, if the marks on his skin were any indication. “I was ten. O was four.”

“ _Bellamy_ ,” Clarke practically whimpered, any pain she felt before how paling in comparison to the anguish she felt now for the little boy who’d dealt with more trauma and responsibility than most grown men could even imagine.

She knew it was ridiculous, since she would have been five years old at the time, but she longed to go back and hold that little boy, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Bellamy being in that much pain, ever.

She started to reach out to him, but he held up a hand.

“It’s not even that I’m…angry with you…or disappointed…or any of the other things you’re thinking. I mean, maybe I am, but that’s not what…” he trailed off, glancing in the opposite direction.

“Just tell me,” she said quietly.

“You told me that and I was ten years old again, but instead of my mom breaking my heart, and Octavia’s…it was you.”

Clarke was crying in earnest now, her hands clutching and twisting uselessly at the sleeves of his borrowed shirt.

“I keep imagining finding you unconscious on the floor…going to visit you once a month in a nursing home and you not even recognizing me most of the time…I keep imagining losing you like…” his voice broke as he turned to look at her, his eyes welling. “Clarke…I can’t. I can’t lose you too.”

It was only after he finished his gut-wrenching explanation that he seemed to realize how hard she was crying.

“Clarke,” he said, face dismayed as he reached for her, his hands cupping her face. He used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”

The tears kept falling, no matter how hard she tried to blink them away.

“Come on, Princess,” he pled, his thumbs still caressing her cheeks. “You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Clarke’s hands came up to clutch his wrists. “Ditto,” she said, nodding at him, since a tear trail or two was visible on his cheeks as well.

They sat there for a few beats, clutching onto each other for dear life, their faces mere inches apart.

“I thought you were done,” she whispered, pausing for a second. “With me,” she finished, voice breaking on the last word.

He looked heartbroken at the mere thought. “ _Clarke_ ,” he responded, voice guttural. “Never,” he promised.

Before Clarke could even process what was happening or how it happened, their lips were meeting, pressing against each other desperately.

It wasn’t sweet or exploratory or any of the other ways first kisses often went. In fact, it wasn’t romantic at all. It was the hard press of lips, the taste of salty tears, and the feeling of inevitability…of necessity.

The anguish, the fear, the utter hopelessness Clarke had been experiencing just moments before all faded into the background because all she could feel was this connection to Bellamy, this tangible proof of his lips pressed desperately against hers, telling her that he needed her just as much as she needed him.

It only lasted for the space of a few heartbeats, and then his lips were moving over her cheek, pressing a few kisses there as he moved to hug her.

They ended up curled around each other, faces buried in each other’s necks as they waited for the world to right itself.

Clarke was again struck by how much peace they found in each other’s arms, even when one of them was the cause of the turmoil to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

She could feel him shaking his head. “Clarke, don’t apologize. I just…Are you okay?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about right now; he was referring to her hospital visit. “I’m fine.” She gripped his shirt tighter. “I promise, I’m fine.”

He exhaled shakily against her neck.

“…you left,” she said unsteadily.

“I wasn’t… I just needed a minute.” He took a ragged breath. “You fucking _terrified_ me.”

“Never again,” she said adamantly.

He was silent against her, and she realized that he’d probably heard that before and it ended up not being true.

She pulled back so he could see her face, her hand resting on the side of his neck. “Do you trust me?” she asked. “Not last year. Now. The person I am now. The person you’ve gotten so close to the past few months.”

He searched her eyes for a moment before replying, “Yes.”

“Never again. I promise,” she said adamantly. “Bell, If I could go back and undo it all…I would. In a heartbeat. I’d do anything not to hurt you like this.”

“Clarke…” he glanced away from her. “If I had left just now…would you still be saying that?”

She knew what he was asking; if he’d left, would she still be swearing off drugs? He couldn’t be the only reason she vowed to stay clean, or that would create a toxic codependency that wasn’t good for either of them.

“Yes,” she said sincerely. “I realize how fucked up it was, Bellamy, and not just because it hurt you. It hurt you, and Octavia, and my mom, and it would hurt everyone else I care about too if they knew. And I was hurting myself. I’m not going back there, even if you decide you can’t…be in my life anymore.” She paused after her heartfelt declaration, giving him a minute to absorb it before she added, “I may have frozen to death though.”

He snorted, pulling her forward so she was leaning against his chest. “Okay,” he said quietly, letting out a ragged breath.

She curled into him, the beating of his heart under her ear indescribably comforting.

“I wish you would’ve called me,” he said against the top of her hair.

She shook her head against his chest. “I didn’t deserve you.”

His grip tightened on her. “Clarke…”

“I didn’t deserve Octavia either, but Finn called her before I could stop him.” Her hand tightened on his shirt as she thought about the little boy that had become parent, friend, and protector for his little sister. She hated the thought of doing anything that could drive a wedge between them. “Please don’t be upset with her. She wanted to call you the minute she saw me, but I begged her not to. It was my secret to tell and I hated the thought of hurting you.”

He nodded against her. “Okay.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing further against him.

Suddenly, he let out a harsh noise, almost sounding angry.

“What?” she asked, concerned she wasn’t quite as forgiven as she’d believed.

“I just realized I’m going to have to _thank_ Murphy the next time I see him,” he uttered, sounding completely horrified by the idea.

Clarke chuckled against him.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, until Bellamy untangled himself and stood up.

She looked up at him, waiting to see where they went from here.

He held a hand down to her. “Come on, Princess. Let’s go home.”   


	22. Chapter 22

 

Clarke stood in front of her bathroom mirror, smoothing down the unrulier parts of her hair as she tried to calm the nervous energy that had taken root in her stomach.

Bellamy should be arriving any minute, and things had been slightly…awkward…between them for the last few weeks, ever since the Finn debacle and the resulting heart-to-heart outside the bar.

They’d continued on the same as they always had: she still spent a night or two at his place every week, they still texted multiple times a day, and they still acted like a married couple a good portion of the time…but things were somehow…different.

He felt a little standoffish on occasion, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t even doing it on purpose, but she’d noticed nonetheless. He didn’t hug her or touch her casually as much as he used to either, although he was quick to return her hugs and would immediately wrap an arm around her if she leaned into his side. 

On the flip side of standoffish Bellamy was the Bellamy that she’d occasionally catch staring at her as if she were fragile…as if he was afraid she’d break with one false move.

Clarke didn’t like the change in their relationship, but she understood that Bellamy was still processing what he’d learned and figuring out how to deal with it. She also recognized that he was probably working on trusting her again.

Needless to say, the kiss they’d shared had been ignored; neither had mentioned it since it had occurred.

Clarke wasn’t sure if that was because he was still processing and working on trust, if he’d decided he didn’t want to be with her in that way, or if it hadn’t been a _kiss_ at all.

She’d thought about it almost obsessively since it had occurred, replaying it over and over again in her mind, both because she was trying to figure out what it had meant and because it was one of the best (and worst) moments of her life.

He’d been upset; they both had. Their faces had been mere inches apart and they’d been trying to reassure each other…comfort each other.

Clarke again played the moment in her mind, feeling the press of his lips against hers. She even remembered thinking, at the time, that it wasn’t romantic or sensual or any of the other ways kisses often went. Their lips hadn’t moved, tongues hadn’t gotten involved, hands hadn’t strayed or caressed. In all reality, it had been a peck that had lasted a beat or two longer than was necessary.

She wondered, for probably the thousandth time, if it had just been another one of those facets of their friendship that they took farther than most people did.

The doorbell rang, breaking Clarke out of her mirror introspection.

“I’ll get it!” she called out, hurrying out of her room and heading toward the front door.

On the way, she chuckled as she thought about how she’d conned Bellamy into this.

_“So, I was thinking,” Clarke said, sitting beside Bellamy on his couch, trying to nonchalantly eat chips like she wasn’t nervous about what she was getting ready to propose._

_“That’s never a good thing,” he joked without missing a beat, head still turned to the TV, where Jack Tripper was currently doing his best Mrs. Doubtfire impersonation, having dressed up as a woman to win a “Grandma’s Best Recipe” cooking contest._

_“Shut up,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “You know…Christmas is a week away.”_

_“Really? I was wondering what the trees and lights everywhere were for,” he said, deadpan as he glanced at his own small Christmas tree in the corner._

_She threw a pillow at him, which he caught while he was chuckling._

_“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. What?” he asked, looking at her._

_Dammit. This might have been easier if he’d kept his gaze trained on the television._

_“Octavia and Lincoln are staying in Cali, right?”_

_He nodded, his face a little unhappy at the thought of not seeing his sister for the second holiday in a row._

_“And you’re coming to Christmas dinner at my house, right?”_

_He nodded, raising an eyebrow as if to ask her what she was getting at._

_“Why don’t you come over on Christmas Eve?” Clarke asked, her words rushed in her nervousness._

_Bellamy frowned a little in confusion, “For…dinner…or? I thought you guys did everything on Christmas Day?”_

_“No. We do. Well…we eat pizza in our pajamas and watch Christmas movies on Christmas Eve. It’s a tradition our family started with the Jahas when Wells and I were toddlers.”_

_Bellamy smiled a little at that. “So, you want me to come watch It’s a Wonderful Life and eat Pizza Hut with you and your mom?”_

_Clarke scoffed. “Please. I want you to come watch Christmas Vacation and eat Papa John’s with me and my mom.”_

_He chuckled._

_Clarke hurriedly added, “…and stay over.”_

_His expression immediately shifted to one of unease._

_Before he could utter a word, Clarke started rebutting all of the arguments he hadn’t even gotten a chance to make yet. “You and my mom are fine now, right?” she asked._

_Bellamy had come back to fix the pipes in Clarke’s bathroom a week after the Old Faithful disaster, and Abby had gone out of her way to be cordial, even inviting him to stay for dinner and praising him for a job well done._

_“Yeah…” Bellamy answered hesitantly._

_“And you don’t have any other plans,” Clarke stated._

_“No, but I’m coming to dinner…”_

_“Bellamy, no one should be alone on Christmas morning.”_

_“Clarke, I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me.”_

_She gave him a look of disdain that even Raven would have been proud of. “I care!”_

_They had something of a stare-down for a few seconds, until Clarke decided to up the ante._

_“Either you come stay with me, or I’ll have to stay over here.”_

_He frowned a little, “But then your mom will be alone on…”_

_“Exactly.”_

_He scowled at her, although she was pretty sure it was because he was miffed that she was going to get her way, not because he was actually angry at her._

_“If you make me choose, I’ll choose you and then I’ll feel guilty.” Clarke batted her eyes a little, playful now that she knew he was going to give in. “On_ Christmas _, Bellamy.”_

_He sighed and rolled his eyes, although she caught the beginning of an indulgent smirk on his face. “Princess always has to get her way, doesn’t she?”_

_“Yes,” she replied primly. “Which is why you’re also bringing those pajamas. You know…” she teased. “The adorable ones.”_

_“Clarke,” he replied, shooting her an impressive side-eye._

_Seriously. They were all spending way too much time with Raven._

_“If you don’t, I’ll make you wear some of mine. I think I have some tiny candy cane sleep shorts you can borrow. Don’t worry…there’s a matching cami,” Clarke teased, her eyes twinkling._

_“I’m sure your mom would appreciate that,” he said sarcastically._

_Clarke shrugged, turning back to the TV, where Jack (still Mrs. Doubtfired) was being hit on by one of the cooking contest’s judges, who was old, grey, and…male. “She’d know it was for the greater good._ She _understands the importance of Christmas Eve pajamas, Bellamy.”_

_He sighed exaggeratedly, turning back to the TV in time to see Jack accidently pull his grey wig off with the crown he’d just won and the ensuing chaos._

_Clarke smiled, not because Three’s Company was hilarious (although it was), but because she’d get to wake up on Christmas morning with Bellamy._

Present-day, Christmas Eve Clarke jogged down the stairs, pulling open the door and launching herself at the man on the other side.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” she exclaimed, arms still around his neck.

He chuckled. “Merry Christmas Eve, Princess.”

She released him somewhat reluctantly, stepping aside to let him in.

He toed his boots off, placing them on the mat with the other shoes, then set down the small gym bag he was carrying so he could remove his coat.

Clarke took it from him, hanging it on the hook beside hers.

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy!” Abby’s voice chimed in as she walked down the hall from the kitchen toward the living room.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Griffin,” Bellamy replied politely.

“I told you before, it’s Abby,” she chastised lightly.

Bellamy shuffled a little nervously. “Are you sure this is okay? I can just stay for pizza and then…” he gestured to the door.

Abby switched the bottle of water she was carrying to her right hand so she could place her left on his arm. “Don’t be silly. Christmas Eve sleepovers used to be a Griffin family tradition. It’ll be nice to have some…” she glanced at Clarke, smiling a little sadly.  “…happiness in this house again.”

She patted his arm before heading toward the living room. “Pizza will be here in 30!”

Bellamy waited until she was out of sight before turning to Clarke, his eyebrows raised. “That…almost seemed like a warm welcome,” he said, his voice low in case Abby was still close.

Clarke smiled, shrugging. “She seemed happy about it when I told her.”

Bellamy’s gaze traveled down her body, then back up. “You weren’t kidding about the pajamas.”

Clarke had to force herself to sound perfectly normal, and not like he’d just made her heart skip a beat with his once over. “I was not,” she said.

She was currently wearing grey and white long-john style pajama bottoms that had snowflakes on them and a red shirt with a wide neck that hung off one shoulder and said ‘Dear Santa, I can explain.’

It also couldn’t have escaped his attention that her mom was wearing a light blue pajama set with penguins ice skating all over it.

“Did you bring yours?” she asked impishly, remembering what she’d threatened him with.

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Fine, yes,” he said stubbornly.

“Go change!” she insisted, pointing down the hallway to the half-bath.

He picked up his gym bag and moved toward her, stopping right beside her, his breath hot on her ear as he leaned in close. “You could’ve at least worn the candy canes,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear him, before he continued down the hallway and disappeared inside the bathroom.

Clarke stood there, mouth slightly agape for a good 30 seconds after, wondering what the hell had just happened (aside from the lightning bolt of heat that had shot to her core. That, of course, she understood.)

Occasionally, he said or did something like that, something that made her libido stand up and take notice…something that made her think he wanted her the same way she wanted him and that the kiss _hadn’t_ been a fluke…but before she could question him about it or even really process it, he’d have moved on, acting as if he didn’t just make her heart stutter in her chest and her toes curl with possibility.

When he returned, clothes changed and hair slightly mussed, he found her standing in the same place he’d left her.

“Come on,” he said nonchalantly, putting a hand on her back to lead her into the living room. “You promised me Christmas Vacation.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, they’d eaten pizza and wings, watched Christmas Vacation, and sat around in their pajamas, glancing occasionally at the twinkling lights of the large Christmas tree in the corner beside the window.

Clarke had escaped to the kitchen a few minutes ago, making three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, which she generously added Kahlua to.

By the time she came back, Bellamy had chosen a new movie and was holding the remote, waiting for her return before he pressed play.

“Let me guess? It’s a Wonderful Life?” she teased.

“Please, Clarke. A Christmas Story,” he scoffed, accepting the mug she handed him.

Clarke reclaimed her seat on the couch next to him, sipping her hot chocolate.

She and Bellamy had ended up beside each other on the couch, while Abby had claimed the chair and a half and the overstuffed ottoman.

They all sipped their spiked hot chocolate, watching as Ralphie pined for his Red Ryder BB gun.

Clarke finished her drink, leaning forward to set the empty mug on the coffee table, then sitting back to try to get comfortable.

It hadn’t really been an issue before, because they’d been eating, or drinking, or getting up to do stuff, but now that they were settling in, she was starting to feel a tad uncomfortable.

It had become her natural instinct to curl up with Bellamy whenever possible…in fact, she wasn’t sure she knew how to sit beside him without leaning into him anymore, but she wasn’t sure how Bellamy or her mother would feel about their casual closeness.

So, she leaned back against the couch, her feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.

That lasted for around five minutes, until her legs started to go numb.

She huffed, letting them fall to the floor as she scooted forward.

She heard Bellamy chuckle softly beside her right before she felt a tug on the back of her shirt.

He pulled her backwards, tugging until she landed against his side.

She wiggled, getting more comfortable, her legs curled beside her as her head rested on his chest.

They both sighed contentedly as his arm went around her shoulders and they turned their attention back to the movie.

Neither of them noticed Abby, who was watching them intently, her face that mixture of sadness and gratefulness that only a mother can pull off when she realizes she’s no longer the most important person in her child’s life.

 

* * *

 

 

“Aren’t you tired?” Bellamy asked, covering a yawn.

Clarke nodded absently.

It was almost 1 in the morning. Abby had gone to bed a couple hours ago, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to pick out the next movie on their own.

Clarke had put in It’s a Wonderful Life, partly to tease Bellamy, and partly because it was a great movie, okay?

They’d also nabbed some Christmas cookies from the kitchen, washing them down with the good bourbon. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

“You ready to go up?” Bellamy asked, the arm he had around her shoulders squeezing a little.

Clarke shook her head.

Bellamy turned his head, his nose nudging the hair near her temple. “You can sneak into my room if you want.”

Clarke smiled a little. They usually didn’t acknowledge the fact that they slept together on purpose. For once, though, the “propriety” of their sleeping arrangement wasn’t what had her reluctant to leave the couch. “Let’s stay down here.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know. You’d think Christmas would lose some of its appeal when you get older, but…” She looked at the giant Christmas tree on the other side of the room, with its twinkling lights and festive tinsel, the fire dancing in the fireplace, still crackling warmly, and even the house across the street, just visible through the window, with its outdoor lights and reindeer yard decorations. “Tonight just seems…magical.” She turned to the man beside her, almost expecting him to tease her. In all reality, being here with him was a large part of the reason the night felt so magical.

Instead of the smirk or the look of confusion she expected to find on his face, she found one of understanding. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” he said softly, his gaze focused on her.

They moved, as if by mutual agreement, lying down on the couch and pulling the throw over themselves.

The Griffin couch wasn’t as wide as Bellamy’s, meaning that they had to scoot even closer together than normal; which, really, Clarke wasn’t complaining.

Bellamy tightened his arm around Clarke’s stomach, pulling her back firmly against his chest.

“Is your mom going to freak out when she finds us like this in the morning?” Bellamy asked, although he didn’t seem all that worried.

Clarke shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

He chuckled, his breath moving the curls at the crown of her head. “Night, Clarke,” he said gently, his lips pressing a kiss into her hair.

“Night, Bell,” she answered.

And she fell asleep to the sound of Jimmy Stewart’s voice, the sight of twinkling lights, both inside and outside, and the feeling of Bellamy’s lips, still resting against the back of her head.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Christmas and fluff and feelings and idk what else to tell you. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Clarke’s eyes opened slowly, although not with the lethargy of usual, probably because she knew what today was.

She found Bellamy already awake, his eyes looking down at her.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered sleepily.

“Merry Christmas, Princess,” he whispered back, reaching up to brush a curl off her face, his fingers gently tucking it behind her ear.

Clarke’s breath caught, because the magic from last night hadn’t dissipated, and he was looking at her like maybe…

_Clang!_

Clarke and Bellamy both jumped, and Clarke probably would have rolled off the couch if not for Bellamy’s arm, which quickly reached out to grab her.

“What the hell?” he asked.

Clarke pressed her forehead into his chest, giggling a little. “My mom must be up.”

They disentangled themselves, sitting up and wiping the sleep from their eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” Clarke told him, making her way upstairs.

She took a few minutes to pee, brush her teeth, and attempt to tame her hair, which had only gotten crazier overnight. 

Satisfied that she at least no longer looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, she made her way back downstairs.

She was walking down the hallway toward the kitchen when she heard what must have been the tail-end of a conversation between Bellamy and her mother.

“The two of you still aren’t…” her mother asked.

“No,” Bellamy replied a little gruffly.

“I think…I was wrong, Bellamy,” Abby replied.

Clarke made her way around the corner. “Wrong about what?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing,” Bellamy replied quickly, at the same time Abby said, “Good Morning, sweetie!”

Clarke continued to look at both of them suspiciously.

“Merry Christmas!” Abby exclaimed, her smile a little too bright as she hugged Clarke.

“Merry Christmas, Mom.”

“Come on. Grab some cookies and let’s go open presents!”

Clarke complied, pouring herself a mug of coffee and grabbing a couple Christmas cookies before heading for the hallway.

Bellamy fell into step right behind her. He leaned forward, teasing quietly, “Cookies for breakfast? Now I know where you learned to eat like a toddler.”

“It’s _Christmas,_ Scrooge.” Clarke looked over her shoulder, laughing as she saw a telltale crumb on the side of his mouth. She reached up, using her thumb to brush it off. “How many did you have?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

He glared at her. “Three.”

Clarke chuckled.

“When in Rome, Clarke.”

They made it to the living room, where Abby was already pulling gifts from under the tree and setting them on the couch.  

Clarke did the same, while Bellamy pulled a few packages out of his duffel bag.

Clarke and Abby exchanged first: Abby’s gifts included a new stethoscope, a bottle of perfume, and a new briefcase to carry back and forth to the hospital, while Clarke’s gifts included a pair of boots she’d been coveting, a box set of I Love Lucy DVDs, and a lab coat with her name stitched beautifully above the pocket.

“Thanks, Mom. I love them,” Clarke said sincerely, getting up to hug Abby.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. And thank you for my gifts,” Abby replied, hanging the purple stethoscope around her neck. “Why don’t you hand Bellamy his present,” she said, gesturing to a small wrapped box sitting on the coffee table.

“You didn’t have to…” Bellamy began.

“I know,” Abby said gently. “I wanted to.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well…” He handed her one of the packages he’d pulled out of his bag.

Abby and Clarke both looked genuinely surprised as he handed Abby the gift. “I didn’t expect you to get me anything.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Full disclosure: I called Octavia for help.”

They opened their presents simultaneously, with Abby receiving a set of wine soaps and Bellamy receiving a pocket knife that was engraved with his initials.

Abby’s surprise grew as she opened her gift, looking at the beautifully swirled bars and then holding them to her nose, inhaling the scents. “These are wonderful, Bellamy. How did you…?”

He shrugged. “I remembered how much you like wine and…” he gestured toward the picture hanging over the mantle of Abby and Jake on their honeymoon in Napa Valley, almost 30 years ago. “I didn’t want to buy you a bottle and it be awful. So, I called Octavia and she suggested this,” he nodded at the bars of soap in her hands.

Abby smiled, clearly pleased by his thoughtfulness. “They’re lovely. Thank you.”

He nodded, looking down at the pocket knife in his hands, clearly impressed that Abby had managed to find something that was both classy and practical.

“I thought…you could use it. In your line of work…” Abby said a little uncertainly.

“I can,” he replied, obviously a little uncomfortable receiving gifts, especially from Clarke’s mother. “It’s great. Thank you.”

Clarke, who’d been watching the scene in front of her with great interest, finally joined back in. “Okay. My turn!” she said, handing Bellamy a wrapped square box and a Christmas card. “Open the box first.”

He smiled, turning the box over in his hands. He ripped off the paper, opened the box, and pulled out a large coffee mug that was covered in tool graphics and said ‘If you can break it, I can fix it.’

He was laughing by the time he turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “I love it. Thanks, Princess.”

She nodded, grinning back, because yeah, it was kind of the perfect present for him. She held up the two packages he’d handed her earlier, silently asking which one she should open first.

“Soft one first,” he said, nodding toward the flatter present that smooshed when she gripped it.

She eagerly tore off the paper, revealing a vibrant royal blue scarf with a chunky knit that felt ridiculously soft under her fingertips. “You remembered!”

Seeing Abby’s questioning look, Clarke explained, “At Thanksgiving dinner, Jasper had a little too much Apple Pie Punch and got his umbrella caught in my scarf on the way out. Unraveled half of it before he even realized.”

Honestly, it had been kind of funny, even though Clarke had been without a scarf for a month.

She looked down at the new one in her hands, which was a definite upgrade from the tan one Jasper had ruined.

“I know it’s not the same color, but I thought…with your eyes…” Bellamy trailed off. “That’s a thing, right?”

Clarke grinned. “Yes, that’s a thing. And it’s way better than my old one. Thank you,” she said, squeezing his arm.

She put the scarf in her lap, turning toward Bellamy. “Open your card,” she said, practically holding her breath as she watched him do as she asked, pulling out a card that had a fuzzy Santa Claus on the front. She’d picked it because she knew he’d find it ridiculous, which he clearly did.

He snorted, running his finger over the fuzzy Santa, which felt kind of like a giant cotton ball.

He opened the card and a piece of paper slid out, landing on his leg.

Clarke watched, with baited breath, as he read it, understanding dawning on his face followed by a look of incredulity.

She started talking a mile a minute, determined to convince him to accept it. “I know you can afford it on your own, but I also know that you never spend money on yourself, so I wanted to do it for you. And it wasn’t that much anyway. It’s from that new budget airline out of Roanoke, so you probably won’t even be able to fit your legs in-between your seat and the one in front of you, and you probably have to fit your clothes inside a thimble but…”

He turned to look at her, his gaze full of something that looked a lot like love, tinged with disbelief, because of course she’d gotten him a voucher for a plane ticket to go visit Octavia.

He studied her for a minute, his face mostly unreadable as he contemplated. “I’ll accept it on one condition,” he finally said, voice a little gruff as he glanced down at the voucher, then back up at her.

Clarke let out the breath she’d been holding. At least he was considering accepting it; she was worried his pride would get in the way. “Okay?”

“Come with me.”

Her face lit up. “Fly to California with you to visit one of my best friends that I haven’t seen in six months? You drive a hard bargain, Blake,” she teased.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest.

She could feel his breath ruffle the top of her hair as he kissed her, then let out a long sigh.

“You shouldn’t have done that…but thank you.”  

She patted his chest before moving out of his arms and reaching for her last present.

Bellamy gestured toward it with one hand. “Now that seems silly,” he muttered.

Clarke turned to glare at him as she started removing the wrapping paper.

“It’s just…I’d have gotten you something nicer if I’d known…” he trailed off, his face a little red as he rubbed the back of his neck in his patented ‘I’m nervous or embarrassed’ gesture.

Clarke ignored him, finally unwrapping a plain cardboard box and then opening the box to reveal…a jewelry box.

Except it was unlike any jewelry box Clarke had ever seen. It was tall and skinny, stained a rich mahogany, and had a beautiful green stained-glass oval window at the top. Clarke flipped the delicate gold latch, opening the box to reveal one of those padded pillows that usually came with fancy bracelets or watches.

“I, uh…I know you hardly ever take your dad’s watch off, but I thought…when you do…you should have somewhere nice to put it,” Bellamy said, his voice hesitant.

Clarke didn’t look at him, mostly because she was still looking at the jewelry box. Something was nagging at the back of her brain, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

She traced the delicate gold swirls on the sides and top of the box, which looked like vines, interspersed with a few leaves here and there. The detailing looked like it had been carved in, then painted with gold paint.

Clarke studied the detailed design, positive she’d never seen anything like this, even in the fancier stores she sometimes frequented with her mother. It looked painstakingly done, much too intricate to be done by a machine in a cookie cutter factory.

She moved her gaze to the beautiful green stained-glass window at the top…and suddenly remembered what her brain had been trying to tell her.

The night she’d Skyped Octavia from Bellamy’s computer…he’d had up a tutorial on ‘How to Stain Glass.’

She finally turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “Did you… _make_ this?!” she asked in amazement.

He nodded tentatively, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “I know it’s not perfect, but…”

His sentence was cut off because she’d turned, placed a knee on the couch beside his leg, and launched herself at him.

“You _idiot_ ,” she exclaimed, her arms practically cutting off his air supply as they wrapped around his neck. “You stupid…generous…talented…thoughtful… _moron_ ,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek in-between at least three of those descriptors before again hugging him tightly.

He chuckled, his arms wrapped tightly around her back, holding her against him.

It wasn’t until she heard Bellamy jokingly say, “I guess she likes it,” that she realized that her mom was still in the room and probably had a clear view of Bellamy’s face, while her daughter practically sat in his lap.

She reluctantly untangled her arms from around him, slapping his arm lightly before she adjusted her shirt and sat back down in her own seat. “I _love_ it,” she corrected, again picking up the box, which she’d carefully set on the table before she’d launched herself at him. “It’s beautiful, Bellamy. How did you even…?” she asked, her voice again awed as she traced the intricate design and ran her finger over the smoothness of the routed edges on the lid.

Bellamy shrugged from beside her. “I used some of David’s tools…looked some stuff up online…” he said, as if it were no big deal.

“May I see?” Abby asked from her place on the chair diagonal from them.

Clarke handed her the box, watching as she turned it one way, then another, her eyes studying it with clear admiration.

Clarke turned back to Bellamy, smiling incredulously as her eyes met his. “You _made me_ a box for my dad’s watch,” she practically whispered, a little dazed at the magnitude of it.

And he was looking at her the same way. “You bought me a _plane ticket_ so I could go visit my sister.”

They continued to sit there, gazing at each other a little stupidly.

Clarke wanted to crawl into his arms and never leave.

She also wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t see straight.

“It really is beautiful work, Bellamy. Some of the best I’ve ever seen,” Abby said, breaking them out of their bubble.

Bellamy again blushed, hurriedly gathering up everyone’s wrapping paper and putting it in the trash, clearly not comfortable receiving this much praise or attention.

The rest of the day passed in somewhat of a blur, fueled by sugar, a few bottles of the wine Abby saved for special occasions, and some more of that magic Clarke had been talking about.

Abby worked on the herb-crusted prime rib while Clarke baked and decorated a black forest cake, garnishing it with half red cherries and half green.

Bellamy accepted the recipe Abby handed him to complete, then proceeded to throw his head back in laughter. “Can you serve Duchess Potatoes to a Princess? I feel like that’s something that could get the chef beheaded. I’m kind of attached to my head, Princess,” he’d teased.

Clarke disappeared right before dinner and reemerged a half hour later, wearing a knee-length emerald green dress. It had lace cap sleeves and a deep V in the back with scalloped lace trim and a full skirt, and she knew it was a little too fancy, even for the semi-formal dinner her family always had, but she wore it anyway, her blonde hair falling in soft curls over her shoulders and her feet bare, because she drew the line at wearing heels in her own house.

Bellamy did an actual double-take when he saw her, uttering a heartfelt, “You look beautiful,” and then barely taking his eyes off her the rest of the night.

They ate, drank, talked, and laughed, and Clarke found herself pressed against Bellamy’s side without even knowing how she got there more times than she could count, as if they just gravitated toward each other by some force of nature.

Everything went perfectly until late afternoon, after they’d already had dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and gone back into the living room. Bellamy started getting antsy, his gaze going to the clock every ten minutes or so, as if he knew he needed to leave but didn’t really want to.

Clarke tamped down her disappointment; she’d monopolized him for most of the day, it wasn’t fair to want him to stay longer when she knew he had somewhere he needed to be.

She tilted her head up from where it was resting on his chest so she could see him. “You need to go, don’t you?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

He nodded reluctantly. “I wish…” he trailed off, sighing, the hand he had on her back rubbing soothingly even as he looked away from her.

“I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his chest for a moment, as if it would somehow help her better remember today.

She sat up reluctantly, then turned to her mother. “Bellamy needs to get going, Mom.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, standing up as he did. “I’m so glad you could spend Christmas with us, Bellamy.”

“Thanks for having me, Mrs…Abby,” he corrected himself before she could, moving out from between the couch and the coffee table.

Abby gave him a hug, which clearly took him by surprise, if his raised eyebrows and his awkward pats on her back were any indication.

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy,” Abby said as she stepped back.

He nodded. “Merry Christmas.”

Clarke watched their exchange with some amusement, finally grabbing Bellamy’s hand and walking with him to the door.

She waited while he put on his boots and jacket and picked up his bag, then reclaimed his hand. And maybe it was weird, but if she wanted to hold his hand on Christmas and he seemingly had no objections, she wasn’t going to talk herself out of it.

She opened the door, leading him out onto the porch, where they both just stood for a moment, neither one apparently ready to say goodbye.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, even though she knew he’d probably say no.

He shook his head, smiling down at her sadly. “I love you for asking, but no.”

Clarke had to force herself to hear his entire sentence, not just the first three words.

He finally moved, setting his bag down and turning to face her more fully. “You know…I thought this Christmas was going to suck. It’s the first time I’ve been away from Octavia…”

“I know,” she said sadly, looking up at him.

“And then you wanted me to come here…with your mom…” he said, chuckling a little.

“I know,” she repeated.

“It ended up being one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had,” he said, wrapping his arms around her upper back, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her against him.

She breathed a sigh of relief, her arms finding their way under his jacket to hug his waist tightly.

“What did you call it?” he asked. “Magical?”

She smiled, nodding against his chest.

“It makes me think…” he began, and she could feel his heart increase in tempo underneath her ear. “…change might not be so bad, after all.”

She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze and sharing a nervously sweet smile with him, because maybe, just maybe, they were _finally_ on the same page at the same time.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek for a few beats longer than necessary, then hugging her again. “Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

She hugged him back just as tightly. “Merry Christmas, Bell.”

He released her reluctantly, bending down to pick up his bag before jogging down the steps.

“Thanks again for my presents,” she called after him.

He looked back, answering, “Thanks for mine.”

Clarke watched him walk down the sidewalk, her arms hugged around her middle to keep herself warm.

He paused halfway across the yard, turning around to look at her while slowly walking backwards. “I wasn’t kidding about the dress,” he told her, sounding almost shy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful.”

Not sure what to say, Clarke just smiled bashfully back at him, her cheeks tinged an attractive shade of pink.

She noticed she wasn’t the only one blushing, although Bellamy’s wasn’t as noticeable on his darker skin. He did that thing he often did, looking down and shaking his head, as if he was hoping his curls would somehow cover his face and hide his embarrassment. All it really did was make him even more attractive.

He eventually turned back around, getting in his truck and riding off with a final wave.

Clarke watched his truck until it disappeared, her fingers pressed to her cheek, which still tingled where he’d kissed it.

She made her way back inside, rejoining her mother in the living room.

“He’s going to see his mom, isn’t he?” Abby asked.

Clarke nodded, gathering up most of her presents. “I’m going to go change.”

She headed upstairs, swapping her dress for leggings and a sweater before sitting down on her bed, the jewelry box in her hands.

She again studied it, still blown away not only by the talent and work that went into it, but also the thought behind it. She’d had no idea he could make something like this, but since he could, he could’ve made her anything from a birdhouse to a breadbox and she was sure it would’ve turned out beautifully. The fact that he made her something to protect what was probably her most cherished possession made his gesture all the more special.

She set the box carefully on her dresser, then headed back down to the living room.

“He goes to visit her every month and on holidays,” she began a little tentatively, because she wanted to share things with her mom, but it wasn’t something she’d been in the habit of doing lately, for obvious reasons. “He comes back…broken.”

Abby looked saddened by the news. “Talk to me,” she suggested…and Clarke did.

She told her what she knew about his mother’s condition, explained how difficult his visits usually were, and talked a little about how distraught Bellamy was afterward.

Abby listened attentively, asked all the right questions, and seemed genuinely sympathetic.

“It has to be hard on you…seeing him that upset,” Abby mentioned cautiously.

Clarke shrugged. “It is…but he’s always there for me. The least I can do is return the favor when he needs me.”

They eventually moved on to other things, watching the Christmas special they’d DVR’d earlier and sipping egg nog.

Clarke couldn’t help it; she kept glancing at her phone every few minutes, both checking the time and to see if she had any messages from Bellamy.

She knew it took him an hour to get there and an hour back, but what time he got home really depended on how the visit went. She couldn’t stop imagining him returning like he had last time, his eyes dull and tortured, his heart on his sleeve and cracked for all the world to see. She detested the thought of him like that at all, but especially today.

Just after the two hour mark, Abby stood up and stretched. “I think I’m going to head upstairs.”

Clarke looked at her a little oddly. It wasn’t even 8 o’clock.

“I’ve got an early shift tomorrow. Spending a relaxing hour reading and soaking in the tub before bed sounds wonderful right about now,” she said, holding up the book Clarke had given her that morning. “And I have new soap to try out, too!” she remembered, grabbing one of the bars that was swirled a deep burgundy.

“Mom…” Clarke began, still not sure why her mom was seemingly eager to end their Christmas earlier than normal.

Abby just smiled at her daughter. “Clarke…go to him.”

Clarke was taken aback. “But…I don’t have to…”

Abby set her gifts down, walking over to sit by Clarke on the couch, her hand coming up to rest on her daughter’s shoulder. “No, you didn’t have to spend the day with me at all. I know you probably would have been just as happy…if not happier…spending the day at Bellamy’s,” Abby smiled sadly while saying this, although she wasn’t trying to make Clarke feel guilty. “So, thank you for including me. But now he needs you, and I can tell you’re getting antsier by the minute.”

Clarke didn’t say anything, because all of that was true.

“I had a good Christmas, Clarke. He should too. And something tells me that if he’s with you, he will,” Abby said, her fingers running over Clarke’s curls, her words trying to absolve Clarke of any guilt she might feel. “Go ahead.”

Abby got up, picking up her book and the soap again.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad I got to spend today with both of you,” Clarke said sincerely.

Abby turned toward her, one of the most genuine smiles she’d seen on her face in months. “Me too, Clarke.”

Abby started walking out of the room, almost making it to the doorway before she paused, turning back around. “You know he loves you, right?” she asked matter-of-factly.

Clarke was a little taken aback, but decided that her mother must mean ‘love’ in a friendly way, so she nodded. “I…love him, too,” she admitted, the words sounding foreign to her ears; she didn’t think she’d ever said them out loud before.

Abby nodded, biting her lip as she decided if she should continue. Finally, she went for it. “But have you realized you’re _in love_ with him yet?”

Clarke let out a large breath, suddenly feeling a little less burdened now that someone else knew. Honestly, it shouldn’t surprise her that her mom could figure her out this easily. She nodded.

“The way he treats you…” Abby sighed, smiling sadly as she glanced at the picture on the mantle. “I didn’t think men like that existed anymore. I thought your father was one of the last. But Bellamy…” she glanced at her daughter. “…he’s a good man.”

Clarke swallowed. “The best,” she said with conviction.

Abby nodded. “Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Clarke waited until Abby had disappeared upstairs before she turned off the lights and the TV, then headed into the kitchen to package up some leftovers.

Within ten minutes, she was clad in her new boots and her new scarf, and she was on her way to Bellamy’s, Tupperware in tow.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke had been sitting at Bellamy’s counter for the last half hour.

She’d used her key to get in, put the leftovers in his fridge, and then spent the rest of her time scrolling through her phone, glad that social media didn’t require much brain power, since most of hers seemed to be focused on the door in front of her and the man that would come through it soon.

She’d never let herself into his apartment without asking first, even though he’d insisted that she could. She’d spent the last few minutes wondering how weird this was, on a scale of 1 to 10, and whether he’d find her actions caring and thoughtful or pushy and overbearing.

She was 99% sure he’d go with ‘caring and thoughtful,’ but this was Bellamy, and if she didn’t spend at least part of her day worrying that she’d freak him out with how much she cared about him, it wouldn’t be a normal day in Clarke-land.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only a few more minutes, she heard a key jingling in the lock.

A few short seconds later, a curly head of hair entered her line of vision as he was busy looking down, taking the key out of the lock.

She saw him look up, surprised to find lights on in his apartment. It only took another second or two for his gaze to land on her.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but did nothing to detract from the weariness that seemed to have taken over his face, no doubt a result of how he’d spent the last few hours.

Clarke slid off the stool, moving to stand at the end of his kitchen counter as he shut the door.

He continued looking at her, an unspoken question written plainly on his face, asking why she was there.

She shrugged, a little unsure of what to do with herself. “I thought you might…need me.”

She’d barely finished her sentence before he was striding toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him so tightly, her feet lifted off the floor.

“Always,” he replied gruffly.


	24. Chapter 24

Clarke sighed as she walked into the on-call room a few days into the new year, letting out a tired breath as she rolled her neck, trying to ease some of the tension in her shoulders.

She’d just finished assisting on an open-heart surgery, which was thrilling, of course, but also exhausting. Between prep, surgery, dealing with the complications, and then post-op duties, Clarke had been on her feet for hours.

It also meant she’d been away from her phone for hours, which she realized when she opened her locker and powered up her cell, finding three missed calls and two missed texts.

It wasn’t so much that the number was excessive (she was pretty sure she’d had more notifications from Jasper in a five-minute span, and that was usually while they were sitting in the same room) but it was who they were from that immediately made her heart leap into her chest.

The three calls were from Miller and the two texts were from Murphy, which let her know, without a doubt, that something was wrong with Bellamy.

Her hands started shaking, a nervous energy coursing through her as her mind immediately started conjuring up all the horrible things that could have happened. Bellamy worked on a construction site, surrounded by sharp tools and a dozen other dangerous situations.

Her brain started doing its own logistics, trying to remember where he’d been working today, trying to figure out if he’d have been brought to her hospital or her mom’s.

The Clarke that was calm under pressure with her patients was nowhere to be found, because this was _Bellamy_ and if Murphy had been worried enough to contact her, something had to be terribly wrong.

She took a moment to take a deep, steadying breath--the kind she usually took before a big surgery, because she realized that every second she spent worrying was another second she didn’t actually know what was wrong. She managed to steady her hand long enough to draw her unlock pattern, finally pulling up Murphy’s texts.

Murphy: [12:15pm] _Has Bellamy talked to you yet? He wasn’t in a good way when he left here._

Murphy: [1:30pm] _Miller said he can’t get ahold of you either. Listen, Bellamy’s mom died and he didn’t take it well. You should probably make sure he’s okay._

Clarke’s heart stuttered in her chest.

She felt both an immense relief that Bellamy wasn’t injured and a staggering sadness, because she knew exactly how much pain he was in right now.

Before she could respond to Murphy’s texts, Miller’s face popped up with his incoming call.

“Miller?”

“Clarke! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Bellamy’s mom…”

“I know. I was in surgery all day. What happened? Is he okay?” Clarke asked, sitting on the bench in front of her locker.

“He got a call right before lunch. I guess it was from that facility she was in. They told him she passed away. He left work to drive out there. I didn’t find out about it until an hour or so later when my dad called me.”

Miller had quit the family business a few years ago, choosing instead to become a security guard, which is how Bellamy had become David’s second-in-command at the construction business. Bellamy had gotten the call at work, which is how Murphy and David knew, and they’d contacted Clarke and Miller.

“I just left his apartment. He didn’t really want me there. He’s not…” Miller paused, sighing. “You should probably go over there.”

“I will. Thanks for calling, Miller.”

She disconnected the call, then quickly typed out a response to Murphy.

Clarke: [4:37pm] _Thanks for letting me know. Going to check on him now._

She stared at the timestamps, remembering what Miller had said. Bellamy had gotten the call just before lunch, which meant he must have found out just before she turned her phone off and left it in her locker. That meant he’d been dealing with this alone for four or five hours.

Clarke hurriedly grabbed her bag and her coat, and was in her car and on her way to Bellamy’s within ten minutes.

She’d found Chief Kane, telling him that there’d been a death in the family and she needed to leave immediately, because that’s what Bellamy was--family.

She quickly found a parking spot in Bellamy’s lot, then made her way through the building to his apartment, knocking gently.

She waited a moment, then tried again.

When there still wasn’t an answer, she used her key, opening the door slowly.

The lights were off, the fading sunlight from outside leaving the apartment mostly in shadows.

“Bellamy?”

Her voice must have registered, even when the knocking hadn’t, because she saw movement on the couch as he turned toward her.

“Clarke?”

“Hey,” she said gently, shutting the door behind her and setting her stuff in the entryway before she walked over to turn on the lamp beside the couch.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“Miller called me. And Murphy texted. They’re worried about you,” she said, moving to stand near him but unsure what to do.

He seemed a little confused by the addition of Murphy, but quickly got past it. “They shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Bellamy…why didn’t you call me?”

“You were at work,” he said, his voice a monotone. “There’s nothing you can do anyway. And it’s not…it’s not a big deal.”

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she half-whispered, her hand going to his shoulder.

He tensed up for a second before leaning into her touch, seeming to crave more contact.

She immediately moved into his personal space, stepping between his legs and running her hand through his hair. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me,” she pleaded.

His hands came up to grip her hips as he leaned closer.

She pulled him to her, his head against her stomach as his arms banded around her, holding on tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of his head as one of her hands rubbed his back and the other kept combing through his curls. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept his grip around her firm and his face pressed into her stomach.

She kept holding him, but it didn’t feel like enough-she didn’t feel close enough.

“Sit back,” she said quietly, loosening her arms and straightening up to her full height.

He hesitated a moment, as if he didn’t want to let her go, before he finally leaned away from her, scooting back on the couch.

Without even thinking about it, Clarke crawled into his lap, her arms again going around him to pull him close.

He sighed gratefully, his arms tight around her back as his head landed somewhere between her chest and her shoulder.

She held him as tightly as she could, her hands roaming over everything she could reach: his back, his shoulders, his hair…as if she could take away some of his pain or provide some comfort via osmosis.

They didn’t speak, staying wrapped around each other silently as the sun continued to set, throwing the room into further darkness.

He wasn’t really crying, at least not noticeably, but she felt a tear hit her scrub top every now and again.

She waited until his arms loosened slightly, no longer holding her in a death grip, before she pulled back a little, taking his face in her hands. She brushed his curls off his forehead. “You okay?” she asked quietly, then could have kicked herself, because she remembered how stupid she’d found that question when she’d been in his position. “I mean, of course you’re not…but are you okay for right now?”

He nodded, his eyes looking up at her from just a few inches away.

“I would literally be good staying like this for the rest of the night…but I really need to pee.”

He let out a puff of air in what she assumed was supposed to pass for a chuckle.

“I’ve been in surgery since noon,” she explained. “That’s why I wasn’t here sooner. I would have been,” she told him, her hand still running through his hair.

“I know,” he said quietly, his head leaning into her hand of its own volition.

“You should’ve called me,” she chastised, although without any real heat.

“I know,” he answered again.

They stayed like that for a moment until Clarke squirmed a little.

He let out another puff of air, one corner of his mouth raising fractionally. “Go pee,” he told her, helping push her up.

Clarke did, cursing her overly full bladder, which seemed to take three times as long as normal to empty itself. Of course, when she wanted to get back to Bellamy as quickly as possible, even her own bladder was against her.

She quickly washed her hands, then headed back out into the living room, where she found Bellamy in much the same position she’d found him an hour ago, sitting forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands.

She went to him, sitting on the coffee table in front of him, her knees just brushing his. She took one of his hands in both of hers. “What do you need?” she asked.

He looked up at her, his eyes somber with grief. “Nothing,” he shrugged.

She kept his hand in one of hers, using her thumb to brush over his knuckles. Her other hand found its way back to his hair, as if petting him could fix things. His face seemed a tiny bit less tortured when she was touching him though, so maybe it wasn’t a horrible solution.

“You must need something. What can I do?” she asked, studying him. “Food? Water? Do you need me to call anyone or make any arrangements or anything?” A thought dawned on her. “You called Octavia, right?”

Honestly, she would feel bad about the fact that she hadn’t called Octavia herself to offer her condolences yet, but her first priority had to be Bellamy, especially since she knew Octavia had Lincoln.

Bellamy stiffened, looking away from her for the first time since she’d sat down. “Yeah, I called her.”

“When is she coming in?”

“She’s not,” he said harshly.

Clarke flinched a little, taken aback both by the hostility in his voice and what he’d said. “She’s…not?”

He shook his head roughly.

“But…the funeral…”

Bellamy shrugged, standing abruptly and walking over to the window. “You know how she felt about her. I could hardly ever get her to go visit. She didn’t…” he sighed, putting his hands roughly on his hips, his gaze still staring out the window. “Ever since…the day I told you about…when we got back from foster care after her overdose…Octavia hasn’t considered her a mother…hasn’t considered her anything, really. I guess kids know, ya know? They know who takes care of them…who they can count on…and Octavia was always so smart…”

Clarke took a step toward him. “Bellamy, she has to…”

He turned on her a little angrily. “My mother made her life a living hell a good portion of the time, Clarke! If Octavia doesn’t want to fly across the country for her funeral, I’m not going to hold it against her!”

Clarke’s eyes widened a little, knowing how upset Bellamy must be for him to yell at her like that. “Okay,” she agreed softly.

He continued to stare at her for a second, before some of the breath, and some of the fight, visibly went out of him. He reached a hand out, as if he was going to touch her, “Clarke…I…” He instead shoved his hand roughly into his hair, pressing his palm over his forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I just…” His hand went back to his hip as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Can we not talk about this? It’s fine. I’ll go to the funeral the day after tomorrow, Octavia will stay in California where she belongs, and then we can all move on with our lives. It’s fine.”

He sat back down on the couch, turning the TV on and staring at the screen.

Clarke stood there, unsure of how to proceed, just watching him.

After a minute, he looked up at her. “I’m glad you’re here. But let’s just…not talk about it, okay?”

Clarke nodded, going over to grab something out of her backpack, then stopping at his fridge. She walked back to the couch, holding out a bottle of water and two Advil.

His gaze met hers questioningly.

“For the headache,” she explained.

His face twisted up a little, because of course she’d known without him even saying a word. “Thanks,” he said, accepting the bottle and the medicine.

“You need food, too,” she told him.

“I’m not hungry.”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s after 6 now, and you didn’t eat lunch or dinner, right?”

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“You’re the one that’s supposed to keep me on an eating schedule, Blake. I’m not sure if I can be entrusted with a responsibility this big,” she said in jest, going to the pull the Panda Hut menu off the refrigerator and walking back over to him. “Do you want chicken or beef?” she asked, knowing he always switched back and forth between his two favorite dishes.

He just shook his head, his eyes still on the television.

“I’d offer to cook, but I’m pretty sure the smoke alarm will just make your headache worse.”

He continued to stare at the TV.

She cocked a hip, determined to take care of him, even if he was going to be difficult about it. A Bellamy who was crying would have been met with sympathy; a Bellamy who was being difficult was going to be met with tough love. “I’m ordering you food, but it would be better if it was something you’d enjoy eating. So, would you like me to order you egg drop soup, or would you like to pick between chicken and beef?”

His lips pursed a little. “Chicken.”

She nodded. “There we go.”

She grabbed her cell phone, heading for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she told him.

He barely nodded in acknowledgement.

She spent a good 20 minutes in the hallway, first calling the Chinese Restaurant, then her mom, then Kane, then Octavia. She ordered extra dumplings, told Abby what had happened and that she probably wouldn’t be home for a while, asked Kane for the next two days off from work, and gave Octavia her condolences. The last call was the hardest, of course.

She was sad for her friend, but also a little perturbed by Octavia’s refusal to come home, especially since Bellamy was here, dealing with their mother’s death on his own. If nothing else, she’d have thought Octavia would want to be here for her brother.

By the time Clarke was finished with Octavia, the Chinese food had arrived. She went downstairs to grab it, then made her way back into the apartment.

She found Bellamy in exactly the same place she’d left him, his body tense and his eyes staring vacantly at the TV.

“Food’s here,” she informed him.

He sighed, getting up and making his way to the bar.

Dinner was a quiet affair, where neither of them ate much and they spoke even less.

Clarke knew he was in pain, knew he was grieving, and she wanted to be there for him in any way she could, but she almost felt like she was walking on eggshells.

She wasn’t sure if his standoffishness was fully attributable to Octavia’s decision not to come home and his reluctance to deal with his grief or if there was more to it. Part of her wondered if he was just reluctant to open up to her, given that she’d once made the same mistake as his mother, who he’d just lost.

Clarke’s heart clenched at the thought that maybe all that joy she’d felt on Christmas, that new beginning as something more than friends she’d thought they were ready for, it might not have just paused, because of his grief…it might have disappeared entirely, his grief a sharp reminder of what exactly was at stake.

Regardless, she was determined to be there for him, in the capacity of friend, at least, for the time being.

So, when they finished picking at their food and went back over to the couch, she only hesitated for a second before snuggling into his side, like she always did.

He tensed up for a moment, and she had the terrifying thought that he was going to push her way…but after a few beats of limbo, he finally put his arm around her.

Clarke stared at the TV, although she wasn’t really watching. Instead, she was concentrating on Bellamy.

A few minutes later, she could literally feel some of the tension draining out of him, bit by bit. His body relaxed, seemingly muscle by muscle, and his breaths started seeming less harsh, less forced.

She waited until he felt almost like himself again before she turned her head up to look at him.

He looked down, meeting her gaze, his a bit sheepish. “Sorry I’m being a dick,” he muttered.

Her hand moved up his chest, to touch the side of his neck. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You’re here, trying to be nice to me, and I’m…” he trailed off. “I just don’t know how to…”

_…deal? …process? …grieve?_

All of them probably fit.

Her thumb was rubbing back and forth on his neck. “I know, Bellamy. It’s okay. You’re allowed to be grouchy, if that’s what you need.”

He continued looking down at her, his face still tumultuous. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay.”

She had some kind of sudden, desperate urge…an instinctual need to hold him. She knew he needed physical contact, that much was obvious, but technically, he was the one holding her right now, and she needed it to be the other way around, although that was easier said than done, given that he was taller than her and outweighed her significantly.

“Do me a favor?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Lay down with me.”

He looked at her a little oddly, not sure what she was getting at. “Okay?”

Clarke leaned away from him, scooting to stretch her body out.

Bellamy moved to lay down behind her, like he always did, but she stopped him before he could get comfortable.

“No, scoot down,” she said, pushing on his shoulder until he was further down the couch, his head even with her torso.

“Clarke, you don’t have to…”

“Hush,” she told him, pulling his head down to rest on her chest.

He hesitated for a moment, but his arm finally came up to wrap around her stomach, his body settling next to hers.

Clarke looked down at him, and maybe it was a little silly, since his feet were up over the arm of the couch, but she had a feeling that this was what he needed. She’d also be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel a little better, too.

So, she wrapped her arms around him, one hand rubbing his back while the other found its way into his hair, pressing gently against his scalp in case he still had a headache, which she was pretty sure he did.

She felt even more tension leave his body, and she almost thought he’d gone to sleep until he moved his head, tilting it up to look at her.

He no longer looked angry, or standoffish, or any of the other isolating emotions he’d been giving off for the past few hours…instead, he looked broken.

Clarke was struck by another desperate urge…this time, to kiss him.

Which, really, she’d had to talk herself out of kissing him dozens, if not hundreds, of times in the past few months, but usually, the urge to kiss him stemmed from her horniness, or his attractiveness, or the fact that he made her happy. This time, the urge to kiss him felt visceral, as if her heart needed to show his how much she loved him.

Clarke bit the inside of her lip, trying to quell the urge, at least for the time being. “Okay?” she asked him shakily, practically holding her breath.

He nodded, laying back down and wrapping his arm around her tightly.

Clarke let out the breath she’d been holding, her hands resuming their caressing patterns, although they felt jerky, even to her, so she could only imagine how they felt to him.

Clarke stared at the top of his head, feeling his breathing even out more, until she was fairly sure he was asleep this time, wondering what on Earth she was going to do.

She wasn’t sure Bellamy wanted to be with her romantically…she couldn’t say for sure that he’d ever wanted that, to be honest. Trying to initiate something now, right after he’d suffered a huge loss, would be a terrible idea, not to mention the fact that she’d feel like she was taking advantage of him in his grief-stricken state.

Kissing him now…out of the blue…or forcing him to make a decision about their relationship while he was mourning would be a horrible thing to do. The last thing she wanted to do was give him something else to worry about. But if he kept looking at her like that…like his soul had shattered into a million pieces…she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop herself.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next few chapters deal with losing a family member and all the emotions and grief that go with it, so please be warned if that's something that hits a little too close to home for anyone.

Clarke’s eyes blinked open rapidly, a mechanical beeping rousing her from a troubled sleep.

She leaned up on one arm, her gaze going to the kitchen, where Bellamy was pulling a plate out of the microwave. “Bellamy?”

He glanced toward the couch. “Shit. Sorry. I was trying not to wake you.”

She shook the sleep from her head, getting up and going to lean against the counter. “Is everything okay?”

He shrugged a little, walking around her to sit down. “I woke up starving,” he said, nodding toward the plate of leftover dumplings. “I guess it’s a good thing you got extra.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, Bellamy,” she said, and she’d meant it as a cute call back to what he’d once told her in a bakery when she’d stolen his food, but really, given what had just happened, it could’ve meant something else.

His gaze slid to hers.

She winced. “I meant…you and dumplings…” she said, gesturing toward his plate. “Not…”

He glanced back down at his food, although it wasn’t with the same enthusiasm as before. “It’s fine, Clarke.”

She sighed, sitting on the stool next to him and deciding to go for blunt honesty. “I guess I’ve been to the ‘I need to first starve, and then eat my feelings because my parent died’ rodeo too.”

His head turned slightly to look at her, a hesitant expression on his face, as if he wasn’t sure whether it was okay to laugh or not.

“Bellamy…” she put her hand on his forearm, turning her body toward his. “You can’t worry about propriety right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll go to the funeral in a couple days and you’ll wear a suit and you’ll pay your final respects, right?”

He nodded.

“That is all you _have_ to do. That’s all that’s required of you. Some people act like there’s some handbook that says you aren’t allowed to smile or laugh or enjoy life for some arbitrary amount of time after someone close to you dies. That’s just…ludicrous. If someone close to you dying should teach you anything, it’s that not everything can be planned, and sometimes you just have to make the best of every situation. You have to take good moments where you can find them, yeah? Trust me on this, Bellamy. You have to deal with this how you have to deal with this. And if you want to crack a joke…or laugh at my joke about belonging to the Dead Parent’s Club…you’re allowed. Is it morbid? Maybe. But you and I…we’re the ones left here, dealing with losing a parent way too young. And I don’t think my dad or your mom would fault us for finding a little humor where we can.” She paused, squeezing his arm to make sure she had his attention. “You’re not disrespecting her memory if you crack a smile…or if you eat a dumpling,” she finished gently, her eyes wide, imploring him to understand.

His eyes searched hers for a minute before he nodded. “Thanks, Clarke.”

She patted his arm. “Now share those dumplings, Blake. I’m starving too.”

They sat eating at the counter, the plate of leftovers between them growing emptier and emptier until it was bare.

Long after they were done, they sat there in silence, both seemingly unwilling to deal with anything else until Clarke finally said, “I know I said you have to deal with this in your own way…and I realize this makes me a selfish, hypocritical bitch…but you’re not getting the urge to flee, are you? Cause…obviously, I get it...but please just…don’t,” Clarke’s last few words sounded like a plea, but she didn’t really care, because the thought of him dealing with this on his own made something inside her ache.

Bellamy sighed, his hands busy tearing his napkin into dozens of tiny scraps. “I mean…I wish I could just…not deal with any of this,” he admitted, before his gaze turned to her. “But I don’t want to run away from you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No?” she asked softly.

His eyes searched hers. “Honestly?”

She nodded.

“It’s pretty much the exact opposite.” He looked away from her, his gaze refocusing on the napkin as a slight blush made its way to his cheeks. “I’d kind of like to hold on tighter.”

Clarke’s chest physically hurt.

“Bellamy…” She leaned toward him, one leg against his and her hand on his forearm. “I’m right here. You can hold onto me anytime you want.”

He nodded.

She squeezed his arm. “I’m serious. Whatever you need. You just have to tell me…or show me.”

His gaze stayed forward, focused on the napkin in his hands.

Clarke stood up, picking up the empty plate. “Go get ready for bed. I’ll clean up.”

She cleaned up the kitchen, then took her turn in the bathroom. By the time she came back out, Bellamy was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She sat beside him, picking up his hand in one of hers. “Can you go back to sleep?”

“I don’t know.”

She crawled on the bed behind him, sitting down cross-legged on the other side. “Come on.”

He turned, sitting on the bed beside her, his back propped up against the headboard, his gaze focused on his hands.

Clarke studied him; really studied him. The slump of his shoulders, the way his whole body seemed coiled, as if he was in physical pain, the way his jaw was set, as if he was permanently clenching his teeth.

She knew him better than she knew herself most days, and she could tell that this wasn’t just grief…it wasn’t just sadness. There was something else bothering him and it was what was making him so distant.

She scooted closer, again picking up his hand. Her free hand started lightly caressing his wrist and forearm. Just like she knew something else was bothering him, she also knew he needed her to comfort him…to ground him. It seemed like the longer he went without physical contact, the further he withdrew.

“Bell?” she asked cautiously.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

He finally looked up at her, his face a little uncertain, as if to say _‘isn’t it obvious?’_

She pulled his hand closer, so it rested in her lap. “There’s something else bothering you. What is it?”

His mouth thinned as he looked away from her.

“Hey,” she said, moving her head to try to catch his gaze again. “Talk to me.”

His gaze made its way back to hers slowly, almost reluctantly.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she asked softly.

He hesitated before admitting quietly, “I’m a horrible person.”

“What? No, you’re not. Bellamy, what are you even talking about?”

“Yes, I am.” He again looked away from her, his gaze going to the left and up, as he tried to blink away tears. “Part of me is _relieved_ , Clarke. My mother _died_ and part of me is _relieved_. What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?!” His voice ended a little strangled as he tried to pull his hand away from her.

She held on to it tighter. “ _Bellamy_.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, his gaze somewhere near his dresser as he chewed viciously on his lower lip.

Of _course_ this was about guilt. It was their specialty, after all.

She put a hand on the side of his face, turning him toward her. “You’re _not_ a horrible person. You’re human.”

He made a noise of disagreement, the self-loathing still evident on his face.

She scooted even closer to him, her hands holding on to him tightly to make sure he was paying attention. “We have to take these seminars in medical school on how to deal with losing patients and how to tell their families bad news. They get into the psychology of it all…how different people deal with grief and why and how we need to approach different situations. Bellamy…there is _absolutely_ nothing wrong with feeling a little relief right now. Your mom has been in an assisted living facility for what…almost 15 years? She was mostly confined to a hospital bed, she had a weak heart, she had seizures…and for the past few years, she’s barely been able to remember her own name. Her quality of life wasn’t great. At least she’s not in pain anymore…she’s at peace. There’s nothing wrong with being a little relieved about that.”

His nose flared as he took a deep breath, again shaking his head. “What if it’s not about that? What if I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with it anymore? What if I’m just glad my life is a tiny bit easier without her in it? What if I’m just a selfish bastard?”

“You’re _not_ ,” she insisted. “Bellamy, I don’t even know half…hell, I probably don’t even know an eighth of the shit that went on in your childhood. But from everything I’ve heard, she _wasn’t_ your mother, not in the normal sense. She didn’t take care of you or provide for you or do any of the other things that mothers are _supposed_ to do for their children. It’s not like you had a great mom for the first twenty-some years of your life and she recently got sick and you felt inconvenienced by it.”

She moved so her hip was against his as she faced him, their torsos only a few inches apart. “You practically raised yourself AND your little sister. Your mom made some horrible decisions that broke apart your family, and you were still a kid yourself, but you did everything you could to put it back together again. Bellamy, most eighteen-year-olds can’t survive on their own without a meal plan and a dorm room that Mommy and Daddy pay for. At eighteen you were…what…working full-time and going to court, fighting for custody of your twelve-year-old sister? And, on top of all that, you _still_ managed to go visit your mom in the facility. Do you know how many people would have written her off _years_ ago? Most people would have blamed her for everything that went wrong and told her to go to hell.”

Bellamy was staring somewhere down by his knees. “I did blame her,” he admitted.

“Bellamy…you had every reason to. No child should have to grow up the way you and Octavia did. But…my point is…you stuck by her. You’re the _least_ selfish person I know. You put everyone else before yourself; your mom, Octavia…me. You take responsibility and obligation and loyalty to a whole new level. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.”

He was still frowning, his gaze refusing to meet hers.

She sighed, biting her lip as she decided to change tactics. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His eyes finally flickered up to meet hers. “Of course not,” he said adamantly.

“I spent the better part of a year _hating_ my mother, Bellamy. And I didn’t even have a horrible childhood to hold against her. My mom was a pretty perfect mother for the first 14 or 15 years of my life, and again after my dad died. She put me in great schools and she showed up to my softball games and she always made sure I felt safe and loved and all the other things a child is supposed to feel.” She squeezed his arm so hard it was probably leaving a bruise, but she needed him to really hear what she was saying. “All those things you didn’t have growing up? I did. And when I found out what she’d done…I still deserted her. I still _hated_ her. So you can’t sit there and tell me that I’m a good person while thinking of yourself as a horrible one. Bellamy…compared to me? You’re a goddamn saint.”

Clarke knew she’d played the ultimate card. Bellamy couldn’t bear it when she spoke or thought badly about herself, so she’d tied their situations together to make him see reason.

Bellamy was the ultimate self-sacrificer. He’d go out of his way to make other people feel better, but he had an extremely difficult time ever forgiving himself.

Clarke looked down, noticing that, at some point, Bellamy’s hand had fallen to her leg. It was currently splayed across her hip, holding onto her tightly.

She could see the turmoil on his face, the clench of his jaw, and the way he was keeping his body still, almost taut, and she knew, somewhere in her gut, that he was dying to reach for her, but was stopping himself.

“Bellamy?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me something.”

His eyes met hers again. “What?”

“You have no problem hugging me in your kitchen when we’re heating up dumplings or wrapping an arm around me when we’re watching TV. You have absolutely no trouble pulling me into your lap when I’m upset and blubbering all over the place. So why are you keeping me at arm’s length now, when I _know_ that you need me?”

He seemed to stop breathing, his gaze focused on his legs. “What if I need you too much?” he asked quietly, his voice strained.

Clarke waited until her heart started beating again before she responded, “Too much as in too often or too much as in too…intensely?”

“Both.”

She made an involuntary noise, almost as if it was her body’s way of telling him he was insane. She scooted over, sliding into his lap.

They ended up much the same way they’d been the day of the blizzard, her sitting on his lap in his bed, their arms tightly wrapped around each other.

“I’m perfectly fine with you needing me, Bell. I need you too,” she admitted.

She could feel him take a deep breath against her before he responded, “You know you’re not an obligation, right?”

“Huh?”

“Earlier, you were saying that I supposedly put other people before myself out of obligation, and you mentioned yourself. My mom? Yeah, she was an obligation. And maybe O, when she was younger. And maybe…that first night I brought you back here with O when you were both trashed…that time was probably about me trying to do the right thing. But ever since…I don’t look out for you or take care of you because I think I have to. I do it because I want to. I just…I want you to be happy, Clarke. And safe, and…” he took a breath, chuckling a little. “…well-fed, and well-rested and…just anything I can do. I’d do anything for you.”

Clarke was biting her lower lip, her head pressed tightly into his hair as she tried not to cry, but didn’t exactly succeed. Her arms tightened around him even more. “I’d do anything for you, too, Bell.”

They sat that way for a while, until Clarke noticed Bellamy was a little fidgety, as if he was restless or contemplating something.

She went with a hunch. “Are you ready to talk?”

He let out a long sigh. “What would I even say?”

She rubbed his shoulder in what she hoped was a soothing manner. “It doesn’t matter. Say whatever you want to say. Tell me about her.”

And he did.

He told her about how he remembered his mom from when he was a kid, her hair long and beautiful, like Octavia’s. How she’d changed after his dad, who he didn’t remember, died. How she’d eventually gotten a new boyfriend, who’d been into the drug scene, and how when she’d learned she was pregnant with his child, he’d fled, leaving her alone with a five-year-old and one on the way.

He told her about his suspicions that his mother had suffered with depression and probably even post-partum depression during those years, possibly contributing to her decision to turn to drugs, even though she had two young children depending on her.

He told her about his time in the group home, how Octavia refused to let him out of her sight afterward, and how she’d barely acknowledged their mother since. He told her about how he’d learned, in elementary school, to sneak as much of his lunch as possible into his backpack, so he and Octavia could share it for dinner.

Throughout it all, he kept insisting that his mother was a good person. She’d hadn’t been mean to them or physically abused them in any way, and she’d never done any of the other things, like not providing food, on purpose. She usually just forgot or was too out of it to remember that children needed to eat.

Honestly, it sounded like she just counted on Bellamy to provide for himself and Octavia. After all, when he’d been only six years old, she’d told him ‘your sister, your responsibility.’

It was a mantra he’d adhered to for the next 23 years of his life, and counting.

Clarke wasn’t sure how long he talked, his voice getting raspier and raspier, both from the exhaustion and the rawness of the emotion, but the sun was just starting to creep through the blinds when they finally slid down and fell asleep, still wrapped around each other.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Same warnings as last chapter re:dealing with loss.

Clarke woke to the sound of Bellamy’s voice in the living room, and he sounded none-too-happy.

She rubbed her eyes, forcing the sleep from them. She couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, but really, she couldn’t complain, not when Bellamy had apparently gotten even less.

She got out of bed, walking over to lean against the door jamb.

Bellamy was pacing back and forth the short length of his living room, his eyes staring at the floor as he talked on his cell phone.

Clarke waited until he turned around and saw her before she went to him, going up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek that wasn’t blocked by a phone.

He squeezed her waist with one hand in acknowledgement before resuming his conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line.

Clarke padded into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee as she listened to Bellamy’s end of the conversation, quickly deducing that he was talking to someone at the funeral home, given that he was talking about caskets and flowers.

She took her coffee into the bedroom with her, sending Miller a text asking if he was free to spend some time with Bellamy. Clarke needed to go home and get some of her things, but she hated the idea of leaving him alone right now.

Her mom had actually offered to pack for her and drop it off, but Clarke knew she’d need to find something suitable to wear to the funeral, and there was no way she could talk her mom through that on the phone, so she’d declined. She had, however, been touched by her mother’s generosity.

Miller texted back, saying that he could be there in 15 minutes, so Clarke got dressed, then tiptoed past Bellamy to go downstairs to let him in.

Miller, who’d showed up with a tinfoil covered casserole dish, spent the elevator ride asking how his best friend was doing and wondering if there was anything he could do for him, to which Clarke responded a little uncertainly, telling him that other than companionship, she didn’t know what else anyone could do.

Clarke pushed open Bellamy’s door, noticing that he was finally off the phone, leaning against his counter and drinking coffee.

“Look who I found downstairs!”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at them. “He was just wandering around in my parking lot?”

“Mmhmm!”

Miller sat the dish down beside Bellamy, using his other hand to slap his friend on the back. “I was wandering around with enchiladas. Does that help?”

Bellamy continued glaring at him for a moment before his eyes flickered toward the dish. “Yeah, alright.”

Miller chuckled, moving to get plates down from the cabinet. “You want some, Clarke?”

“Not right now. I need to run home and grab a few things if you boys will be alright by yourselves for a couple hours.”

Miller, who already knew the plan, nodded as he started dishing up lunch. “Go ahead. Bellamy and I are long overdue for some quality Nintendo time.”

Bellamy was still leaning against the counter, his arms now crossed as he realized he’d been played.

Clarke walked over to him, putting her hands on his crossed arms as she stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Eat your enchiladas, kick his ass at Super Mario Brothers, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She went to step back, but Bellamy reached out, his hands spanning her waist. She was slightly off balance, since she’d been on her tiptoes, so she quickly grabbed on to his shoulders.

She ended up bent slightly backwards as Bellamy stepped forward to steady her, his legs on either side of her and his cheek pressed to hers.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” he murmured in her ear.

She chuckled, squeezing him tightly before he helped right her. “But my evil plan is still going to work,” she teased.

He shook his head a little as she backed toward the door, but he was half smiling. “Of course. Princess always has to get her way, after all.”   

Clarke laughed, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. As she pulled the door shut behind her, she called out, “Play nice, boys. And let Bellamy be Mario, Miller!”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke spent the next couple of hours driving home, trying on clothes to find an outfit for the funeral, packing a bag, and driving back to Bellamy’s.

She’d started out texting Miller every ten minutes to ask how Bellamy was doing, but that only lasted for a half hour or so, until Miller got annoyed and told her to chill, that he had it handled.

When she opened the door to Bellamy’s apartment, just a little over two hours after she’d left, she expected to find the boys glued to the television screen as one of their characters hopped around collecting coins and dodging hammers thrown by maniacal turtles. Instead, she found Miller sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone as Bellamy leaned against the end table, again talking on his cell phone.

When she caught Miller’s gaze, he gave her a worried look, then came over to say in a hushed voice, “We barely got through lunch before his phone started ringing. He’s talked to his cousin and someone from the facility his mom was in and someone from the funeral home and after that I stopped keeping track. Right now, I’m pretty sure he’s on with the preacher that’s going to speak at the funeral.”

Clarke looked over Miller’s shoulder to where Bellamy was currently rubbing his forehead, looking like he’d rather be covered in maple syrup and staked to an ant hill than endure this for much longer.

Miller continued, “The preacher has all this stuff he usually says, about how she was an adoring mother and how her children were the most important part of her life, but obviously he can’t really say that this time. Bellamy’s having a hard time giving him something truthful that’s…um… _polite_ enough to say at her funeral.”

Bellamy covered the mouthpiece on his cell phone and pulled it away from his ear, half whispering, “I didn’t need a babysitter.”

He looked to be in a decidedly worse mood than when Clarke had left a short while ago.

Miller walked over, giving him a bro hug. “Love you too, man.”

Bellamy snorted, his phone still held away from his ear.

Miller grabbed his coat, then stopped to tell Clarke, “There’s enchiladas in the fridge if you want some.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said, and she didn’t just mean for the food.

He nodded, patting her arm as he walked to the door.

Bellamy again held the phone away from his ear. “Miller,” he called out.

Miller turned around, eyebrows raised.

“Thanks.”

Miller nodded again before leaving.

Clarke smiled gratefully as she watched the subtle ‘this is all the emotion I’m comfortable showing in front of you, but I really love and appreciate you’ part of their bromance in full effect.  

Once Miller left, Clarke leaned against the counter, raising her eyebrows at Bellamy as he rolled his eyes at her, clearly exasperated by the conversation he was having on the phone.

“Uh huh…Yes, I understand.” He used the thumb and forefinger of his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to fend off a headache. “Yes, I’ll think about it and make sure to talk to you before the service…Uh huh…Okay. Thanks, Reverend Daniels.”

Bellamy finally pressed End on the call, tossing his phone on the coffee table as he let out a giant sigh, his fingers rubbing circles on his temples.

“So, I’m guessing fire-breathing dragons holding Princess Peach captive weren’t your biggest problem while I was gone?” Clarke asked facetiously.  

Bellamy snorted, continuing to rub his forehead.

“My mom sent lasagna,” Clarke informed him, gesturing toward the casserole dish she’d set on the counter when she came in.

Bellamy nodded. “That was nice of her,” he said, still not looking up.

Clarke put her mom’s casserole dish in the fridge beside Miller’s, then turned back around to lean against the counter. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “What didn’t happen? The long-term care facility wants to know when I’ll be there to clean out her room and settle up the paperwork, and the insurance company needs me to send them her death certificate before they’ll pay out the benefits, which probably won’t even cover the funeral expenses, and the funeral home wants to know what kind of coffin I want and what clothes she should be buried in and _how her hair should be styled_ and I just…have no clue. And then the preacher…excuse me… _Reverend_ …wants me to give him stories about my childhood that he can share at the graveside service to show what a wonderful woman she was. So, basically, I’m trying to decide if I should tell him about the time I was 14 and Miller and I rode three different buses to pick Octavia up from a soccer game cause Mom disappeared with the guy across the hall or the time I was 11 and stole a candy bar from the gas station because it was Octavia’s birthday and Mom had forgotten to get her anything.”

Clarke let out the breath she’d been holding, swearing that every little bit of his childhood he revealed broke another piece of her soul. “ _Bellamy…_ ”

“I know this makes no sense, since I never even knew my dad and I’ve raised myself since I was six…but I feel like a goddamn _orphan_ , Clarke.” He finally let his hands drop, and they slapped roughly against his thighs. “I know I’m almost thirty, but _God_ …I’m not ready to make these decisions. I don’t know how to deal with flowers, and caskets, and _choosing the outfit she’s going to be in for the rest of eternity_. I just…I feel so…” He rubbed his hands roughly on his jeans, unable to finish his sentence.

Clarke watched him for a moment, seeing how distraught he looked. She knew he felt alone right now, and she needed him to know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart as she made her way around the counter to the end table he was still sitting on, stepping between his outstretched legs.

He looked up at her, his gaze a mixture of curiosity and anguish, and Clarke knew what she needed to do…what every part of her being was telling her to do.

She still knew that this wasn’t a good time to drop a relationship change in his lap, but she had to go with her gut on this one and, if nothing else, she could tell him that this didn’t have to change anything.

She put her hands on his shoulders. “Close your eyes,” she told him softly.

He looked surprised, but did as she asked after a moment.

Clarke took a few seconds to study him as she moved her hands slowly up his neck, then started tracing her fingers gently over his face in soothing motions.

She could practically feel her heart beating in her throat, and her breathing was so shallow it felt like her lungs were barely moving, but she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Bellamy didn’t really react, but a kiss on the forehead wasn’t exactly out of the norm for them.

She pulled away a tiny bit, moving down to kiss his left cheek, then his right.

Bellamy tensed. Cheek kisses obviously weren’t new for them, but this pattern clearly was.

Clarke took a final short, shallow breath before she leaned forward again, this time kissing the small scar that met his upper lip.

Bellamy quit breathing, but didn’t open his eyes, which is probably what gave Clarke the courage to go through with it.

She pressed her lips against his softly, holding still for a moment before moving, tilting her head a little so she could kiss him properly.

He responded a little, although it was probably out of instinct more than anything else, his lips hesitantly moving with hers.

His hands came up to grip her waist, although they neither pushed her away nor pulled her closer, they just rested there uncertainly, which was pretty much what all of his body language was conveying.

Clarke pulled back a little, chewing on her lower lip as her gaze hesitantly met his, waiting for a reaction.

He was looking at her just as uncertainly. “What was that?” he asked, his voice a little wrecked.

Clarke swallowed. “I…don’t know. I just…” She searched his face, trying to see how he felt about it all so she could decide how much to tell him. “I _know_ you feel alone right now and I’m just…” She trailed off, still not sure how to proceed.

His face hardened a bit and his hands tightened on her waist. “I don’t need a pity fuck, Clarke,” he said harshly.

Clarke was pretty sure she physically flinched, but yeah, she could see where he was coming from. Her hand squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not about pity, Bellamy. And no one said anything about fucking, either,” she gave him a pointed look.

He let out a little snort, and with it, some of the tension in his body.

Her hand made its way up to his neck, her thumb rubbing along his jawline. “I just…I don’t know. I know you need me.”

His eyes bored into hers. “We’ve already established that I do. But you don’t have to do…this,” he finished uncomfortably.

“I know I don’t _have_ to. But ever since I got here yesterday, you’ve been looking at me like you’re _broken_ and I just…” Her eyes flickered over his face, trying to make him understand. “I feel like I can’t get close enough.”

“I’m fine, Clarke. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Of course he’d think kissing him was some sort of sacrifice on her part and not something she dreamed about on a regular basis.

She made a disgruntled noise in her throat before she could stop herself. “It’s not like that! I just…” she paused, searching his eyes again. “Is this how you felt when you knew I was in so much pain and I wouldn’t let you help me?”

He stiffened even more, his eyes wary. “How do you feel?”

“Like my heart hurts because yours does. Like I’d do anything I could to bear some of the pain so you don’t have to.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened a little in surprise. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he said calmly, as if they weren’t discussing possibly the most intimate thing they’d ever discussed.

Clarke nodded, moving both her hands up to cup his face as her eyes flicked rapidly back and forth between his. “Something in me…every instinct I have…has been telling me to do this since I first saw you yesterday. It’s not some great hardship…it’s what I’ve wanted to do…something I’ve _needed_ to do, but I kept telling myself it was too weird to drop this on you…now.”

“Clarke…I told you before…I can’t lose you. I couldn’t lose you a month ago, when I first said it, and I certainly can’t now,” he said, and frankly, he looked terrified, although she caught his eyes drifting down to her lips, almost as if he couldn’t stop them.

Clarke took one look at his face and knew she couldn’t push him for more right now. She wasn’t sure if that was his subtle way of telling her that he didn’t want to be with her and he knew his rejection would end their relationship, or if he was just scared that a change in their relationship wouldn’t work out and he’d lose her. Either way, she didn’t want to cause him more worry right now. She could figure out what this all meant for her later.

She shook her head, her thumbs rubbing his cheeks as she stepped a little closer to his body. “Hey, you’re not going to lose me. You’re never going to lose me,” she promised. “It doesn’t have to change anything. It won’t, okay?”

He continued looking at her a little dubiously.

“I promise,” she said, then had a somewhat horrific thought. “Unless…you don’t want to…”

His eyes darted back up to meet hers. “I never said that,” he told her, his voice little more than a whisper as his hands finally shifted slowly, pulling her closer.

They both maintained eye contact until just before their lips met, as if playing a game of chicken where they were giving each other the chance to back out right up until the last second.

Neither one did, and their lips met more naturally this time, blending together as they hesitantly explored each other.

Clarke’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, because although it was tinged with sadness and loss, and although she’d apparently convinced him that they could platonically make out, this was _Bellamy_ she was finally kissing, and it was everything she’d ever thought it would be and more.

Her arms had made their way around his neck, and his had banded tightly around her waist, and Clarke had the distinct realization that this was something she’d been waiting her entire life for…this feeling of complete rightness.

She’d experienced close to it before, in quiet moments she’d shared with him, but now, feeling his lips moving against hers, it was like the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

They pulled back just a few inches, both breathing a little harshly as they stared at each other.

Clarke ran her hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, deciding to tell him as much as she dared, both to make herself feel a little less burdened by her secret and to make him feel less alone. “You know I love you, right?” she asked, and she wasn’t even that surprised when her voice sounded nothing like normal.

Bellamy didn’t answer, just continued to glance at her a little unsurely.

“Please tell me you know that,” she insisted. “If you don’t, I’ve been doing something wrong for the last half a decade or so, and certainly for the last few months.”

His eyes drifted down, not meeting hers anymore, almost as if he was reluctant to believe her.

Clarke _refused_ to let him continue to deny that he was worthy of anything good in life, or anyone’s love, especially when her heart was about to burst with just how much she loved him…how much she was _in love_ with him.

She tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. “ _Bellamy_ , I’ve told you before…you’re the most important person in my life. You’re never going to get rid of me, mostly because I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore, and the one time I tried, I was _miserable_ and I never want to do that again. So you’re never going to lose me, okay? I’m here for as long as you want me, and probably even after that, because I can’t imagine ever letting go of you.”

With that, she leaned forward, her lips catching his in short kisses before she leaned back to look at him, her thumbs again rubbing his cheeks. “Tell me you know,” she pled.

His eyes met hers with a kind of intensity she wasn’t really prepared for. “I know,” he said softly, as he leaned up to kiss her again.    

Clarke wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, wrapped around each other as they continued to kiss each other gently, careful not to take it too far, but when they finally pulled apart, Bellamy looked a little more dazed than broken, which she greatly took comfort in.

“Okay?” she asked quietly, her hand on his cheek, although she wasn’t really sure if she was asking if he was okay, if the kissing was okay, or something else entirely.

Nevertheless, he nodded, turning his head to press a kiss to the center of her palm.

A shiver worked its way through Clarke, and she had to remind herself to start breathing again. “You feel up to going to deal with some of the stuff you were telling me about?” Honestly, she hated the thought of moving, but she knew he needed to deal with some of this stuff before the funeral tomorrow.

He sighed, taking one of her hands in his and looking down at it. “Yeah. I guess I need to go to the funeral home, at least. You don’t have to…”

She squeezed his hand. “I _want_ to.”

He looked up at her, obviously unsure.

“Come on. We’ll handle it.” She leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before stepping backward and tugging on his hand. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Listen...if anyone could try to convince themselves they could be in love with each other and make out "platonically"...IT'S BELLARKE. #sorrynotsorry


	27. Chapter 27

Clarke walked slowly down the hallway toward Bellamy's apartment, Bellamy beside her, their hands twined together.

They'd spent the last couple of hours at the funeral home, and it had been one of the most heartbreaking experiences of Clarke's life.

The funeral director had spoken to them in his office first, then taken them to the 'showroom,' which contained probably a dozen different coffins.

He'd walked around, pointing out different features like the type of wood, the detailing, the interior, and the price, and Clarke had the very odd thought that it felt a lot like going to buy a new car, except it involved a lot more emotion and was a hell of a lot more morbid.

The funeral director had been ahead of them, showing them different models and talking about satin lining, and Clarke had felt the back of Bellamy's hand brush against hers. She'd looked up to find him looking a little terrified and very overwhelmed.

Their hands had moved at the same time, fingers linking together.

They'd stayed that way most of the time since, including after they'd gotten out of Clarke's car just a few minutes ago. They'd met near her trunk, ready to walk into his building together, and they’d reached for each other automatically, as if they'd been doing it for years instead of just starting a couple hours earlier.

Clarke used her key to open his door, leading him inside and then pulling the door closed behind her.

When she turned around, Bellamy was just standing there, free hand in his pocket as he stared a little blankly into his kitchen, his mind obviously somewhere else.

Clarke tugged on his hand, pulling him closer, while her free hand cupped the side of his face. She went up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips firmly against his.

She kissed him a little desperately, her lips clinging to his, and if a kiss could talk, this one would be repeating  _'I love you, I love you, I love you'_. 

His arms slowly crept under her coat, wrapping around her waist, and it was as if Clarke could feel him come back to her, retreating from the darkness he kept trying to get lost in.

She ended the kiss, but her hands, which were around the back of his neck, pulled him down a little, so she could rest her forehead against his. "I'm sorry you have to go through this," she whispered.

"I can't believe I'm dragging you through it with me," he said, sounding unhappy about the thought.

Clarke sighed exasperatedly. "When are you going to get it through your thick skull?" she asked, nudging his nose with hers. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

Bellamy studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before he leaned forward, and then he was the one kissing her a little desperately.

Clarke's arms locked behind his neck, and Bellamy bent her backward a little, so they could reach each other easier, his hands under her coat, roaming over her back and sides while he pressed her against his chest, and Clarke got a little lost in it...in him, as their lips moved together effortlessly.

The next thing she knew, he was ending the kiss and stepping back, his eyes concerned and his breathing ragged. 

"Sorry," he said, wincing. "I got a little..."

Carried away?

Well, she'd been about 30 seconds from wrapping her legs around his waist, so she couldn't exactly fault him for it. "It's fine," she said, coughing a little in an attempt to make her voice sound somewhat normal again. "I was right there with you," she finished, looking at the collar on his coat and trying not to blush.

When she finally forced her eyes to meet his, he was already staring at her, probably trying to determine the authenticity of her statement.

Eventually, he nodded once, then turned around to take off his coat, effectively ending the moment.

Clarke blinked, finally forcing air into her lungs and wondering what they were going to do for the rest of the night.

They typically spent hours alone together in his apartment, but they also typically weren't kissing each other any time they felt like it. Clarke was a little worried that with all the emotion surrounding them, and considering their newfound 'closeness,' they'd end up doing something they couldn't come back from.

She quickly dismissed most of the places they could go, knowing Bellamy wouldn't be up for going to the bar or any other kind of socialization, really.

It only took her a minute to think of a possibility, and really, she was a little ashamed she hadn't thought of it earlier. Ever since she'd known him, Bellamy had dealt with anger and sadness and virtually every other negative emotion in one way...

"Do you want to go for a walk?" she asked, before the idea had even fully formed in her head.

He turned around from where he'd been placing his shoes on the mat, raising an eyebrow. "A walk? It's winter...and it's dark," he commented, glancing out the window.

Clarke shrugged. "You usually hike up a mountain when you're dealing with stuff, right? ...or you make  _me_  hike up a mountain," she grumbled, reminding him of the time he'd dragged her with him when Octavia had started dating Lincoln, who happened to be a decade older than his baby sister (and a few years older than Bellamy, which Clarke had always thought was the real sticking point for him.)

Bellamy shrugged. "I guess."

"Well, we're not particularly close to a mountain and it's almost dark, but we can still bundle up and go walk down by the river."

Bellamy looked a little skeptical.

Clarke tried to sell her idea. "Come on. We could both use the exercise. It'll help us sleep."

That's how they ended up leaving his apartment 20 minutes later, Clarke wearing two pairs of leggings, a cami, one of Bellamy's t-shirts, and one of his giant Miller Contracting sweatshirts, her thick scarf wrapped multiple times around her neck and a pair of knit gloves on her hands. She'd also put on two pairs of socks before putting on her tennis shoes, but who was counting?

Bellamy, natural furnace that he was, only had on a pair of sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie.

They walked the few blocks to the river, then got on the path that joggers often used, although they kept their pace at a brisk walk, not really talking, just staring out at the frigid water and letting the cold air burn their lungs.

To be honest, Clarke welcomed the cold. It was a welcome reminder of life and vitality after the stifling afternoon they'd spent in the funeral home.

They walked for what was probably a couple miles, staying on the path, eventually ending up near where Monroe usually parked her food truck, although there were few people around, since it was freezing and dark outside already, which tended to keep potential foot traffic away.

Clarke, who was a little winded, led the way over to the concrete stadium style seating that loomed over the amphitheater, sitting down on one of the steps and then laying back, her hands on her stomach as she caught her breath.

Bellamy climbed up after her, sitting down beside her.

"Whose bright idea was this?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy chuckled. "Yours, I believe."

"You've gotta stop listening to me."

He just smiled, looking out over the water.

Clarke tried to see his face, but didn't have a clear view from her position on the ground beside him. "Did it help?"

"Yeah, probably. A mountain would've been better, but this was good on short notice," he said, looking down at her, and his face did seem a little more relaxed, as if he was more like himself.

Clarke nodded, tilting her head back to look up at the stars as she made a mental note to make sure they planned a group camping trip the next semi-warm weekend.

They stayed there for a few minutes, until Clarke started becoming more and more aware of the cold, a shiver working its way through her. "I swear to God, it's been winter for 17 months," she complained.

Bellamy laughed. "Nah. You just insist on getting hypothermia every couple weeks. Makes it seem longer," he teased, eyes twinkling as he grinned down at her.

She swatted uselessly at his arm.

"You are laying on cold concrete, you know."

Clarke grumbled, then accepted Bellamy's hand when he reached to help pull her up.

He kept pulling, his other arm sliding around her and pulling her onto his lap.

Clarke squealed a little, surprised as she landed against him, but quickly got with the program, burying her nose in-between his neck and his shirt.

"What would you do without me to use as a human furnace?" he teased.

"Become a popsicle," she answered.

He chuckled, and she pulled back to look at him.

For the first time in a couple days, he didn't look sad, or tortured, or any of the other things that had made Clarke desperate to comfort him in any way she could. He looked like Bellamy, eyes twinkling at her, one side of his mouth turned up in that trademark smirk she loved so much...and he was staring at her lips.

Clarke forgot that she was only supposed to be comforting him. She forgot that she'd tried to convince him, and herself, that this newfound closeness didn't have to change anything.

The only thing she could think about was the fact that she was sitting on his lap and he was looking at her like he loved kissing her as much as she loved kissing him.

So, she leaned forward, deliberately pressing her lips to his.

He responded immediately, his hands pulling her closer.

Where their earlier kisses had been about grief, or comfort, or something of the sort, this one felt like...a kiss for the sake of a kiss.

Clarke nudged her nose playfully against his and felt him smile a little against her mouth, which made her pull him closer, her hand sliding into his hair.

They both tilted their heads, deepening the kiss, and Clarke had the distinct thought that  _this_  felt like a first kiss: it was slow, and deliberate, and it gradually increased in its intensity, which is why, after a few minutes, Clarke swiped her tongue across his bottom lip.

Bellamy immediately froze, his entire body tensing.

Clarke hurriedly pulled back, her eyes searching his.

His eyes were a little frantic, a little confused, and a lot worried. She couldn't quite make out the expression on his face, but it was some combination of desire and hesitancy that made her practically fall off his lap in her haste to stand up.

"Sorry!" she said, a little too loudly, backing away from him.

He frowned, reaching for her. "Clarke..."

"No, I am. I shouldn't have... I was just...you were warm and I forgot myself for a second." She turned around, quickly walking back down to the path by the river. She turned around once she got there, trying to sound normal, and not like her heart was beating approximately 1,000 beats per minute in her chest. "Come on, race you back!"

Clarke took off at a half jog, which was the first indication that something was seriously wrong with her.

Bellamy was well aware that she was the sort of person that only ran if there was something scary chasing her, which...technically...what could be scarier than feelings...especially feelings you thought might be unrequited?

They got back to his apartment a while later, having scarcely said a word on the way home.

Clarke immediately toed off her tennis shoes and started unwrapping her scarf.

Bellamy, on the other hand, stood just inside the door, watching her warily. "Clarke...are you okay? Are we okay? I thought..."

Clarke didn't give him a chance to finish, not wanting to hear him remind her that they were just friends and that sticking your tongue in your friend's mouth wasn't exactly considered normal behavior.

Clarke was fairly sure a lot of the parameters of their friendship weren't exactly normal, especially the past couple of days, but who was she to complain?

"We're fine," she insisted, squeezing his arm and giving him what she hoped came off as a smile and not a grimace. "Do you want to shower first or should I?" she asked, striving to get back to some sense of normalcy between them.

He studied her for a second, probably trying to make sure she was okay. "You can," he finally answered.

She nodded, grabbing the weekender bag she'd brought to his house and heading into the bathroom.

She took a minute getting everything ready: pulling out her shampoo and conditioner, her body wash, and a clean pair of underwear and a sports bra. It was around that time that she remembered she hadn't bothered to pack pajamas.

She'd been in her room, packing a suitcase, probably five feet from the dresser that contained her pajamas...and she hadn't bothered to pack any, probably because her subconscious knew she'd rather wear Bellamy's.

Clarke took a breath, rolling her eyes at herself. She couldn't even blame it on her subconscious. She was well aware she'd done it on purpose.

Sighing, she opened the door, wondering if she should go risk another awkward interaction with Bellamy or if she should start digging through his drawers on her own.

She stepped into his bedroom...and stopped short.

Because there, laying folded neatly on his bed, was her favorite pair of his grey sweatpants and a purple Grounders Baseball t-shirt that definitely hadn't been there five minutes ago, when she'd first walked through.

And Clarke could've kicked herself, because even when she was being weird, and overthinking everything, and trying to stick her tongue in his mouth in a deserted amphitheater, Bellamy still knew her better than she knew herself, and he was still taking care of her.

Clarke grabbed the clothes, then retreated back into the bathroom.

By the time she emerged 20 minutes later, she'd mostly talked herself down, reminding herself that Bellamy was going through enough right now and he didn't need her dragging her own baggage and her own feelings into it. She'd been the one that had suggested this new arrangement in the first place, and then she'd been the one that had misread the signals. He'd done nothing wrong, and she needed to stop making him feel like he had.

So, she'd smiled warmly at him when she walked back into the living room, drying her hair with a towel, telling him the bathroom was all his, and by the time he emerged 15 minutes later, she'd convinced herself that everything would be fine if she acted like it was.

She heated up an odd but delicious combination of lasagna with a side of enchiladas, and they ate side-by-side while watching a mini Star Trek marathon.

Bellamy washed their dishes while Clarke threw their sweaty clothes in the washer, and it was...fine. They both seemed a little tense around each other, but they were...fine.

Around 11, they headed into his bedroom, laying down beside each other but keeping some distance between them.

It only took a few minutes for Clarke to realize that Bellamy was starting to spiral again, no doubt thinking about what tomorrow morning would bring.

She turned on her side, resting her head on her bent arm. "Tell me something good about her," she said quietly.

Bellamy turned to her, mirroring her position a few inches away from her. "Like what?"

Clarke shrugged. "Do you have any good memories?" she asked, searching his face. "Yesterday...you said something about how she used to look like Octavia, and it was the only time you seemed...happy about remembering."

He stared at a spot on his comforter, obviously losing himself in his memories. "When I was little...I don't remember much. Octavia was born when I was six, which means her asshole sperm donor showed up when I was around five, so it had to be sometime before that. We lived in this tiny apartment over by the middle school, and we didn't have a lot, but once a month, on a Sunday, we'd get on the bus and go over to the park...that little one over in the old part of town?" Bellamy finally looked at her, asking if she knew of it.

Clarke nodded. She didn't think she'd ever visited, but she'd driven past it a time or two. It was a little out of the way, on the edge of town, butting up against the woods on one side and the historic district of town on the other.

Bellamy continued, "It wasn't anything great...just a few gardens, some walking paths, and a little pond with a bridge...but to a four-year-old who lived in a one bedroom apartment...it was like heaven."

Clarke reached out, tentatively putting her hand over his where it rested on the bed between them.

Bellamy didn't pull away, and he kept talking. "Once a month, we'd go down there...stop at that little bakery beside the bus stop and get their day-old bread, then go feed it to the ducks in the pond. I'd run around a little bit...do whatever it is toddlers do when they're allowed to run around like hellions..." he smirked a little at the memory of that. "...then we'd walk down the street to the old theater. They'd show cartoons on Sunday afternoon and kids got in free. I think Mom had to pay like $5 for her ticket, which, honestly, even that was probably a lot for us...but she did it anyway. We'd go watch Pinocchio or Beauty and the Beast or whatever was playing, and then we'd get back on the bus and go home."

Clarke just continued to hold his hand, knowing he wasn't done.

"I know now...it doesn't seem like a lot. And that little theater showed the same movies over and over...I probably saw Aladdin six times...but it seemed like some grand adventure back then, ya know? It was just the two of us, and we got to go all the way to the other side of town, passing all the tall buildings downtown...and then we'd end up at this little piece of heaven that was full of grass and trees and flowers and ducks that would honk at you until you threw them bread. It was something I didn't get to see a lot of," he told her, shrugging a little at how it sounded to him as an adult. "We'd spend all day together..." he trailed off, his face troubled.

Clarke leaned down a little, trying to catch his eye. "She sounds like a totally different person then."

Bellamy nodded. "She was. I usually forget that version of her...it was so long ago...and I have so many more memories of the other version..."

Clarke squeezed his hand, wishing that wasn't the case.

"I think I forget that she was a good person...a good mother...at one point. I forget that she had troubles of her own. I don't..." he paused, frowning as he tried to collect his thoughts. "She still should have done better by us...but maybe some of what happened...maybe it happened to her too."

Clarke made some sort of noise, which made Bellamy look up at her.

It wasn't until he reached a hand up, his thumb gently swiping across her cheek, that she realized she was crying.

"I've said it before, and you never believe me, but it bears repeating...you're the best man I know," she told him, her hand grasping his wrist.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before he laid down on his back, much closer to her this time.

She took the hint, curling into his side and laying her head on his chest.

"I know I promised the Reverend I'd give him childhood memories for tomorrow...but I don't want to tell him that one."

Clarke tilted her head so she could see his face.

"He'll just use it so he has something nice to say and I don't..." Bellamy sighed. "I feel like it's all I have left of her."

Clarke nodded, her heart cracking a little more. "We can find a poem or a Bible passage in the morning...something we can give him to read," she offered.

He smiled at her, his hand tangling in her hair. "Thanks," he said gratefully.

Clarke nodded, laying back down on his chest.

After a few minutes, she whispered, "Thanks for telling me." 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:   
> #1) I MIGHT have made myself cry while writing this...possibly multiple times.  
>  Sorry?  
> #2) I kept hearing Chasing Cars in my head while writing the first scene.  
>  So, sorry again.

Clarke vaguely heard Bellamy’s alarm going off, but she didn’t really wake up until he rolled over to shut it off, because he had to disentangle himself from her to do it.

By the time he rolled back over, her eyes were open and she was looking up at him.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he returned, voice just as quiet, his eyes already looking a little melancholy as they searched hers.

Clarke studied him, her head resting on the pillow just a few inches from his, and she could already tell how much he was dreading what today would hold.

She scooted forward, pressing her lips gently to his, her hand on the side of his face.

His hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer as he returned her kiss.

She’d dreamed about kissing him good morning…she’d had to talk herself out of doing it almost every time she’d woken up in his arms. It was just as intimate and wonderful and soul-shattering as she’d always imagined, but she’d give _anything_ for it to be under different circumstances.

Her soul shattered a little bit more as she pulled away, when she realized that was probably the only time she’d ever get to experience what it felt like to wake up and kiss the love of your life good morning.

She pulled back just a little, just enough to look at him, finding him looking a little lost. “It’s going to be okay, Bell,” she promised, her thumb rubbing his cheek. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it will be. Today will suck…but you’ll get through it, and then each day after that will be a little easier. I promise.”

He looked unconvinced, his gaze still locked on hers as his hand remained tight on her waist, and she _knew_ he wanted her…needed her…but was afraid to make the first move.

She moved her hand to the back of his head, pulling him toward her gently as she rolled onto her back. “It’s okay, Bell,” she whispered.

He leaned forward, moving over her a little as he kissed her softly, hesitantly.

She ran her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back, pouring every bit of love and compassion and reassurance into it that she possibly could.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving along her cheek until he buried his face in her neck.

Clarke kept her hand in his hair, holding him to her.

“If we just stayed here…the world would keep going without us, right? Today’s going to happen whether I’m there or not,” he said huskily, his lips moving against her skin as he said it. “Can we just stay here? Like this?”

Clarke’s heart cracked a little more, because she’d give _anything_ to make that happen, for so many reasons.

She tightened her arms around him, pressing a kiss into his hair.

He tensed noticeably against her, as if he’d just realized what he’d asked her. He abruptly pulled away, not quite meeting her eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he mumbled, getting out of bed.

Clarke blinked rapidly, trying to process his about-face. She sat up, scooting toward the edge of the bed and reaching for him before he could get too far. She grabbed his arm. “ _Bellamy_ , stop.”

He did, but didn’t turn around.

“Sit,” she said, pulling on his arm.

He sighed, stepping back and sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her.

She huffed a little, wrapping her arms around his chest from behind and pressing her body firmly against his back.

His hands slowly came up to rest on her arms.

“We can do anything you want, Bellamy,” she told him quietly.

Clarke was having a bit of an internal struggle, because she knew Bellamy thought he’d made her uncomfortable, but she’d wanted to respond with something along the lines of _‘I’d love to stay in your bed, wrapped in your arms for the rest of eternity,’_ but knew that was too far beyond this invisible line they’d set for themselves.

Honestly, she was having trouble figuring out what was too much and what wasn’t enough anymore.  

Her instincts were simultaneously telling her to make love to him until he forgot everything but her…and to do everything in her power to make this time as simple on him as possible by keeping things comfortable and easy between them.

She went with some sort of combination of the two, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around him and pressing a kiss just behind his ear.

He fidgeted a little at the contact, then sighed. “I guess I have to go, don’t I?”

She moved forward a little, nudging his temple with her nose. “A few hours…then we can come back here, yeah?”

He nodded, but neither of them moved.

“You going to stay wrapped around me like a monkey the whole day?” he asked, and there was a slight teasing quality to his voice that let Clarke know he was going to be okay.

“Maybe,” she answered a little playfully. “You think it would help?”

“Probably.”

They stayed there, allowing themselves a quiet moment to prepare for the chaos and heartbreak they knew the day would bring.

She leaned forward, her cheek against his. “I love you,” she whispered.

He turned his head, nose nudging her cheek as he breathed her in. “I love you too, Clarke.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ten forty-five found them in the office at the cemetery, having just finished up with the preacher and the funeral director. They’d gone through a short run down of what the graveside service would entail and given the Reverend the bible passages and a poem Bellamy wanted him to read.

The Reverend had left a few moments before, to prepare, and the funeral director was just on his way out now, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone for a moment before the funeral started.

“Oh, excuse me,” the man said, turning around in the doorway. “Do you have any idea how many flowers we’ll need?”

“Flowers?” Bellamy asked, frowning.

“For after the service…for the guests to place on the coffin…”

“Oh,” Bellamy looked at Clarke, obviously not sure. “I don’t know…”

“They’ll be here,” Clarke said quietly, referring to their friends.

Bellamy nodded, although he still looked a little uncertain. He paused, trying to count how many people he thought would show up. “Half a dozen?”

“Bell…” Clarke began.

“Oh, I forgot Mom’s cousin. No more than seven or eight, probably,” he told the funeral director.

The older man nodded, leaving them alone.

Clarke stepped in front of Bellamy, straightening his tie in a gesture that was meant mostly to calm them both. The funny thing was, she could remember her mom doing the same thing for her dad on countless occasions, and it left an odd little flutter in her stomach.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised.

He held her gaze, his eyes sad but steady, not panicking. “I know.”

She nodded, pressing a gentle peck to his lips before moving to his side and sliding her hand into his.

He squeezed her hand, leading them out of the office and outside, to the beautifully tended graveyard.

They rounded the corner, heading toward where his mother’s grave was going to be, and Bellamy paused, almost stopping in his tracks when he saw everyone already gathered around the plot.

Clarke just smiled at him, tugging on his hand to keep him moving, leading him over to where the usual suspects were gathered with some people Bellamy clearly hadn’t expected.

Jasper, Monty, Bryan, and Miller were all grouped together, chatting, while Miller’s father and Raven were standing a little apart from them, obviously trying to create a bridge between their group and Abby, who was standing a little awkwardly to the side. An older woman Clarke didn’t recognize was already sitting in one of the chairs, and Murphy was standing under a group of trees, not talking to three guys Clarke didn’t recognize.

As soon as Clarke and Bellamy got close to the grave, the Reverend appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and asked everyone to have a seat so he could get started.

Clarke nodded at her mom, then took the seat in the front row beside Bellamy, her hand still clenched tightly in his. 

The Reverend started speaking, doing a prayer, then reading from the Bible, and Clarke started to tune it all out. She got a little lost, staring at the coffin and the headstones around her, and suddenly she was a child again, burying her best friend, and then she was a teenager, burying her father.

A few tears trailed down her cheeks, unbidden and pretty much unnoticed by her, but they didn’t go unnoticed by someone else.

Bellamy pulled her hand onto his leg, holding it in both of his as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded, wanting to tell him to stop worrying about her, that she was the one supposed to be taking care of him today, but she didn’t want to disrupt the service any more than she already had.

Bellamy, however, leaned closer to her, barely whispering, “I told you we should’ve stayed in bed,” in her ear.

Clarke turned her head into his shoulder, trying to hide the snort that escaped her.

They both settled back into their seats, although he kept her hand firmly grasped in both of his.

Clarke reached up with her free hand, trying to discreetly wipe her eyes, when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.

Looking back, she realized her mom was sitting behind her, squeezing her shoulder as she gave her a sympathetic look, her eyes also wet.

Clarke nodded at her in understanding, squeezing her hand before she turned back around.

The service went on for a few more minutes, and it wasn’t until the Reverend started the ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ part that she felt Bellamy stiffen beside her, his breathing changing as he tried to hold it together.

Clarke turned toward him a little, curling her free hand around his bicep in the closest thing to a hug she could manage at the moment.

She caught his teary gaze, trying to steady him with their connection. “It’s okay,” she mouthed.

He held her gaze for a few more seconds, nodding before facing the preacher again.

The ceremony ended a few minutes later, the Reverend giving a final blessing before telling everyone that they should pay their respects to the family, then the deceased.

Clarke stood when Bellamy did, standing a little off to the side so everyone could walk past them on their way up to the coffin. Clarke knew she wasn’t family, so technically she should be in the line with everyone else, and maybe if Octavia were here, she would’ve been, but as things stood, she wasn’t about to let Bellamy stand up there alone.

Bellamy seemed to have the same thoughts she did, since he hadn’t released her hand yet.

The first person that came to them was the woman Clarke didn’t know. She was probably mid-60’s, with greying brown hair and wearing a long black dress. She hugged Bellamy a little awkwardly, then stepped back, wringing her purse strap in her hands.

“No Octavia?” she asked.

Bellamy shook his head. “She lives in California now.”

The woman nodded, not seeming too surprised by the information.

Bellamy took Clarke’s hand again, turning toward her a little. “Annabelle, this is…Clarke,” he said, stumbling a little over how to introduce her. “Clarke, this is my mom’s cousin, Annabelle. She’s the one who took Octavia in after Mom got sick.”

Clarke released Bellamy’s hand to shake Annabelle’s. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said sincerely.

Octavia and Bellamy rarely mentioned the women, but they never really spoke badly of her. Apparently, she hadn’t been the best nurturer or emotional support system to Octavia, but she had provided for her and kept her safe, which was more than many would have done.

“Bellamy, I barely even knew Aurora…I wasn’t even aware she’d had children until CPS contacted me after her fall.”

Bellamy nodded, not really sure where she was going with this.

“I think about the two of you a lot…now that I’m older. I was never meant to be a mother...but I tried to take care of Octavia the best I could…”

“I know,” Bellamy said, and he didn’t seem to harbor any ill will. “I’ll always be grateful you took her in instead of letting her go into the foster system.”

Annabelle nodded, but she grasped his hand, “I often think about it now…and I wish I’d been able to take you too. I should’ve tried harder…” she finished, and it seemed like something that had been weighing on her for a while.

Bellamy squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. Everything turned out the way it was supposed to.”

Annabelle nodded again, her gaze going to Clarke. “I’m glad you found a nice girl. You deserve to be happy.”

Clarke waited for Bellamy to correct her, but he didn’t.

Instead, he said, “The next time I’m over in Roanoke…why don’t we have lunch?”

“I’d like that,” she replied, patting his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss, dear,” she said before moving up to the coffin, murmuring a few words before placing a rose on top and then heading toward the gravel pathway, where everyone had parked their cars.

Clarke glanced at the pile of roses, noticing that someone had discreetly added a handful more, accommodating for the extra guests.

The group of men that Clarke didn’t know made their way up next, Murphy lagging just a few steps behind.

Bellamy introduced the three of them to her as his co-workers, and they expressed their condolences and gave Bellamy awkward one-armed hugs before they respectfully made their way past the coffin.

Murphy moved up, standing in front of Bellamy and Clarke. “Listen, I know how much this sucks, okay? I’m sorry.”

And he said it all a little awkwardly…almost with an air of defiance…but Clarke believed him nonetheless.

Bellamy studied him for a minute, then nodded. “Thanks for coming, Murphy.”

Murphy nodded, then backed away, nodding at Clarke as he turned in the opposite direction, going out without walking past the coffin, and Clarke almost laughed at the absurdity of it all…although it also seemed kind of fitting. None of these people, except maybe Annabelle, were here for Aurora…they were all here for Bellamy.

It warmed Clarke’s heart to know that he had so many good people that cared about him.

Abby was the next one to come up, and she immediately reached for Clarke.

Clarke went into her arms, hugging her tightly.

“You okay, honey?” Abby asked.

Clarke nodded as she pulled back. “You?”

Abby nodded, smiling tightly at her daughter before she moved over a few inches to hug Bellamy. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Bellamy.”

Bellamy patted her back a little awkwardly. “Thank you. I had no idea you would be here.”

Abby pulled back, shrugging a little as she glanced at Clarke, then back at Bellamy. “It seemed important.”

Clarke touched her arm. “Thanks, Mom.”

Abby nodded, then looked up at Bellamy again. “If there’s anything I can do…let me know,” she told him, squeezing his arm before she made her way up to the coffin, bowing her head respectfully before she placed a rose on top.

David Miller was next, and Clarke saw the love and the respect that existed between the two men, and she realized that he was probably the closest thing to a parent Bellamy had ever had.

The rest of their friends were next, Raven, Jasper, and Monty all hitting like a whirlwind, trying to be sedate and respectful, but also hugging the dickens out of both Bellamy and Clarke and insisting they wanted to do something nice, like take them out to dinner.

Bryan snuck into the conversation at some point, feeling a bit out of place, but determined to express his sympathy to his new friend, who also happened to be his new boyfriend’s best friend.

That group eventually moved along, laying roses on the coffin on their way out, which left only Miller.

He stepped forward, hugging Bellamy…this time, a real hug, not one of those one-armed-slap-you-on-the-back things.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he told his best friend of over a decade.

Bellamy nodded. “Thanks, Miller.”

Miller turned his gaze to Clarke, wrapping her in a hug. “Thanks for taking care of him,” he said, and he didn’t even try to keep Bellamy from hearing.

Clarke waited until Miller pulled away to nod her response. “Always,” she told him.

It was almost as if some sort of silent communication passed between them…where Miller officially turned the “biggest supporter of Bellamy Blake” title over to her…and she officially accepted it, promising that she’d live up to his expectations.

Miller nodded, slapping Bellamy on the arm before he started backing away. “You need anything…you call me or Dad, okay? Anything.”

Bellamy nodded his thanks.

Clarke watched as Miller placed a rose on the coffin, then headed toward the pickup his dad and Bryan were standing beside.

Clarke turned to Bellamy, squeezing his hand tightly in hers. “Take as long as you need, okay?”

He nodded, although he seemed reluctant to let her go.

Clarke walked the few steps to the coffin, knowing Bellamy was right behind her and would hear everything she was going to say, and maybe that was for the best.

She picked up a rose, then stared down at the polished wood in front of her.

“I think…in another life…you and I would have been friends. I’m sad that we didn’t get to know each other in this one. I know…things weren’t easy…but you’re a part of both of my best friends…so I know that parts of you had to be special,” Clarke took a breath, gazing down at the rose in her hands. “Your son…” she shook her head. “I don’t know if you really got a chance to see the man he’s become…but he’s amazing. He’s kind and compassionate and generous and loyal to a fault. He’s just so… _good_. He’s such a good person. Sometimes, he’s the only thing that reminds me that there’s good left in this world. I’m not sure if it’s because of you…in opposition to you…or in spite of you…but he’s the best man I know…and he’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So, thank you for giving me the chance to have him in my life. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

Clarke wiped away her tears with her left hand before setting the rose gently on the coffin with her right. “I’m sorry you lost your way. I hope wherever you are now…you find peace.”   

She made her way on slightly shaky legs toward a bench near the pathway. She didn’t look back until she reached it, and when she did, she found Bellamy standing where she’d left him, his gaze still on her, his face a little shocked by what she’d said.

She smiled gently at him before she sat down, facing the other way.

Her mom, who was the only one still lingering by her car, made her way over to join her daughter on the bench.

“How are you really, sweetheart? I know this can’t be easy on you,” Abby said, her hand on Clarke’s back.

Clarke shrugged. “I had a moment there…during the funeral…thinking about Wells and Dad. But I got through it, thanks to Bellamy,” she laughed a little at the absurdity of it. “His mom’s funeral and he has to comfort me.”

Abby just kept rubbing her back. “What did you say a few minutes ago when you were at the grave? He stared after you for the longest time…”

Clarke shrugged. “I told her what an amazing man her son became and thanked her for bringing him into the world and giving me the chance to have him in my life. And that I was sorry she lost her way and hoped she could find peace now.” 

Abby was silent, which made Clarke turn to look at her, and she found her with tears in her eyes.

“Mom?”

“My little girl isn’t a little girl anymore,” Abby said, her voice a little choked.

Clarke frowned. “I’ve been an adult for a few years now…”

Abby shook her head. “Oh, I know you’ve been more mature than most adults since you were a child. Losing your best friend, losing your father…putting up with everything you put up with your teenage years…I know you were forced to grow up too soon, and I’m so _so_ sorry for that,” Abby said adamantly, squeezing Clarke’s hand. “But I think there’s another level of maturity that some people never reach. It’s when you stop being selfish…when you put someone else first for the first time in your life: their happiness, their pain, their comfort…when you care more about them than you do yourself. That takes a kind of selflessness not everyone reaches. I saw that today…from both of you.”

Clarke just stared at her mom in surprise, not sure how to respond.

“Have you told each other how you feel yet?” Abby prodded gently.

Clarke shook her head. “It’s not…now’s not the time. I’m just trying to get him through this, and then I’ll deal with…how I feel about him.”

Abby smiled sadly. “See? Selflessness. And from everything I’ve seen, he does the same for you. That’s not a kind of love everyone gets to experience, Clarke. Just don’t wait too long, okay?”

Clarke nodded as Abby stood up, glancing behind her.

“I’ll leave you two alone. I meant what I said, if either of you need anything, call me.”

“Thanks for coming today, Mom.”

Abby nodded to Clarke, then waved at Bellamy, who was slowly making his way toward them, before she walked the few feet to her car.

Bellamy joined Clarke on the bench just as Abby’s taillights disappeared over a knoll.

Clarke turned to look at him, finding him mostly in one piece, but with red-rimmed eyes.

She took his hand in hers. “Asking if you’re okay would be stupid, right?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged.

She used his hand to pull him closer, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He hugged her back fiercely for a few minutes before he murmured, “Can we go? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, leading him over to her car and getting in.

He seemed to breathe a little easier once they were in the car and a lot easier once they’d made it out of the cemetery and Clarke had pulled over on the mostly deserted road just outside the cemetery gates.

She put the car in park, reaching for his hand. “What do you want to do?”

He shrugged, looking out the windshield.

“Back to your place?” she asked, trying to ask if he wanted to spend the rest of the day cuddled up in bed with her, like he’d wanted this morning. Honestly, she’d be pretty happy with that plan.

He shrugged again.

“The guys are up for whatever if you feel like seeing them. They wanted to take you to dinner or something,” she reminded him.

“Not right now,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “Just…you.”

Clarke’s heart simultaneously broke and almost pounded of her chest at this heartbroken boy… _her_ heartbroken boy…admitting that she was the only one he wanted to be around right now.

She turned toward him more. “I have somewhere I want to take you,” she told him. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it or want to do it…and if not, we can turn around and go home, okay? Just trust me?”

His gaze finally met hers as he nodded.

Clarke turned back into her seat correctly, pulling out onto the road and heading back into town, hoping like hell that her idea would end up making him feel better…not worse.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry I'm such a lazy bum and haven't updated. It was Easter...and I was working on a one-shot...and honestly, I think I'm avoiding working on this cause it's getting closer to being done and I'm in denial about it. 
> 
> ...or I'm just a lazy bum. Idk what to tell you. 
> 
> P.S. This should be the last sad/grief chapter, but it was pretty necessary, both for Bellamy and for Bellarke. I might have made my beta cry again, so...fair warning.

Clarke drove back into town, the mostly deserted country roads around her turning to city streets with more traffic the further she got from the graveyard.

She glanced at the man sitting beside her, who was staring out the window, but she was fairly sure he wasn’t actually seeing anything, which was probably a good thing, because she wasn’t positive how he was going to feel about where she was taking him.

She eventually turned onto a wide, beautifully paved street, taking in all the brick and stone buildings around her, complete with large storefront displays and unique signs out front. She glanced at street names until she found the one she wanted, turning onto a brick alleyway that was beautiful, but a little jarring, the noise finally seeming to snap Bellamy out of whatever daze he’d been in.

He glanced around, noticing where they were just as Clarke parked the car in a small lot near a gate that said ‘Historic Arkadia Park.’

She turned off the ignition, then turned to face him, finding him slightly surprised, and definitely slightly wary.

“We don’t have to do this,” she told him. “I just thought…maybe it would help you…maybe it would make you feel closer to her or maybe it would be…cathartic somehow. But if you’re uncomfortable…we can go home. Or…” she searched his eyes. “If you don’t want me here, that’s fine too. If you’d rather do this alone…or with Octavia…just tell me. I promise I won’t be offended.”

He shook his head, as if her last statement was ridiculous. “It’s not that. I just…wasn’t expecting you to bring me _here_.”

She shrugged, smiling at him a little.

He glanced out the window, looking at the entrance to the park as he chewed on his lower lip. “I don’t know…” he said hesitantly. “Let’s…try?”

Clarke nodded before opening her door and getting out.

The day was surprisingly warm for January, probably around 50 degrees, but it felt much warmer with the sun shining so brightly as the afternoon wore on.

Clarke took off her long winter coat, leaving her in a knee-length black dress that was sleeveless and had a panel of lace near the collar and the grey cardigan she’d worn over it.

By the time she’d taken off her coat and left it in the backseat, Bellamy had removed his suit jacket and tie and also tossed them in the car, leaving him in black slacks and a purple button-down shirt, which he immediately undid the first few buttons on, sighing as if he could finally breathe again.

Clarke smiled fondly at him, automatically reaching for his arm to help him roll up his cuffs.

She knew Bellamy, and every time she’d ever seen him in a suit, he’d done this same routine as soon as humanly possible.

It didn’t help anyone, especially her, that he looked ridiculously good like this, dressed up but a little rumpled, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to see the strong column of his throat and his sleeves rolled up enough to show off his tanned, muscular forearms.   

She automatically slid her hand into his. “Where’s that bakery?” she asked.

Bellamy turned around, glancing across the street to the storefront next to the bus stop…and immediately frowned.

Clarke raised her eyebrows, following his gaze, and finding ‘Shumway, Ginsberg and Associates’ written in large block letters on the window of the building, with ‘Personal Injury Lawyers’ written in smaller type underneath.

Bellamy continued to glare at the building.

Clarke tugged on his hand. “I take it that’s where the bakery used to be?”

She’d Googled earlier that morning to make sure the movie theater and park were both still open, but she hadn’t bothered with the bakery, which had obviously been replaced by…a law firm.

Bellamy nodded. “It used to be Arkadia Bakery, run by this tiny old man that would grumble at everyone but give us his day-old bread without blinking. Now it’s… _lawyers_?” he asked, saying the last word almost like a four-letter one.

Clarke was pretty sure Bellamy didn’t have a problem with the profession, so it was probably some combination of their apparent branch of law combined with them screwing up his trip down memory lane on a day that was already hard enough for him.

Clarke glanced down the street, spotting a convenience store just down the block. “Come on,” she said, dragging him down the street with her.

They made it to the small store, which really only sold the basics, and Clarke grabbed a bag of Wonder bread off the shelf, which Bellamy looked at a little dubiously.

Clarke gave him a bit of a side eye as she handed the cashier a couple $1 bills and waited for her change. “They’re ducks, Bellamy. They’re not going to care if it’s from a bakery or a gas station.”

Bellamy smirked a little. “This place doesn’t sell gas.”

She pinched his arm in retaliation before sliding her hand back down and catching his, leading him back out to the street.

They made their way back to the park, Bellamy tossing another glare, complete with a mumbled, ‘ _fucking ambulance chasers_ ’ at the building across the street.

Clarke snorted, turning him away from the offending sign.

He slowed a little when they reached the gate to the park, looking up at the iron scrollwork that proclaimed ‘Historic Arkadia Park’ and ‘founded 1899.’

Clarke let him take his time, holding onto his hand tightly as they walked slowly through the gate, down a paved path for a few hundred feet, and around a copse of trees, where the pond finally came into view.

It wasn’t a very large body of water, pretty typical to those found on golf courses, but it was a natural pond, fed by a stream coming off the mountain in front of them, and it had a beautiful stone bridge arched right across the middle.

They walked to the center of the bridge, then stood there, taking in their surroundings.

Clarke had never been in the park before, so she was a little surprised to find how nice it was. It was winter, so most of the trees and flower beds were bare, but it was obvious how beautiful it must be in the spring and summer, when everything was in full bloom.

Clarke nudged her shoulder into Bellamy’s. “I can see why you like the path by the river so much.”

He glanced down at her with surprise, realization dawning on him in front of her eyes. “I guess I never thought about it…”

She just smiled gently up at him, wrapping her free hand around his bicep and turning her body partially toward his.

He stared back out at the water and, as if on cue, a small group of ducks started swimming toward them.

Bellamy snorted a little, undoing the twist tie on the bread. “I guess some things never change,” he said, pulling out a few pieces of bread for himself before handing Clarke the bag.

They spent the next few minutes feeding the ducks, who did indeed honk angrily at you if you dawdled with their lunch, until Bellamy finally closed the bread bag. “What should we do with this?” he asked, a little bit of a grin on his face.

Clarke shrugged. “Put it in the car on the way back. We’ll make grilled cheese sandwiches.”

He nodded, lacing the fingers of his free hand with hers. “Let’s go sit,” he said, nodding at the low wall of the planter nearest the lake.

They sat on the stone wall, mostly silent as they people watched for a few minutes. Multiple joggers passed, as did people walking alone or with dogs. The warm winter day had also brought out quite a few families, who were taking advantage of the sunshine to get in some quality outdoor time.

Clarke noticed Bellamy seemed a little fixated on a woman with a child that was probably her son, who were sitting in the grass on the other side of the lake, rolling a ball back and forth between them. The woman had wispy blonde hair, and so did the boy, and the boy couldn’t have been older than two, so Clarke knew the details were a little off, but she knew Bellamy was seeing himself with his own mother.

The toddler rolled the ball a little too far to the left, and the woman fell dramatically to her side to catch it, causing the boy to giggle loudly, in the way all children were just a tad too loud when they were allowed to be.

“Like I said…some things never change,” he said, and it sounded a little melancholy, although there was a softness to his face that told Clarke maybe he meant it in a good way.

Just then, the little boy excitedly hopped up, shouting “Mommy!” and running awkwardly across the grass to a woman that was approaching.

The brunette swept the little boy up into her arms, kissing his cheeks and fawning over him as she kept walking toward the blonde woman, and she was apparently asking him questions, because he kept nodding his head and chattering excitedly.

By the time she reached the other woman, the boy was fidgeting to get down, eager to reclaim his bright green ball.

The brunette set him down, watching him for a moment before turning to the blonde, but the minute she did, they smiled brightly at each other, then shared an enthusiastic kiss hello.

Bellamy tilted his head down a little, a grin on his face. “I guess some things have changed a little.”

Clarke snorted.

“Good for them,” he said, although that sounded a little melancholy too…or maybe a little wistful.

“Yeah, good for them,” Clarke replied, although it was a little choked, because she felt a pang somewhere in her heart she’d never felt before.

Watching the women, obviously happy to see each other and happy to be with their child…playing in the park on a warm winter day…it made Clarke feel a kind of longing she’d never experienced before.

Being young, experiencing so much loss, and being bisexual…Clarke had never really thought about kids in the tangible sense before. She’d considered them, occasionally, but more in the vein of ‘someday, maybe.’

She’d never known if she was going to end up with a man or a woman, so she’d never been sure if biological children would even be an option for her, which is something else that made her think about children only in the very broadest of terms.

Clarke was aware there was a bit of irony in the fact that seeing a lesbian couple made her realize for certain that she wanted a family with the man sitting beside her…but she also knew that her decision had nothing to do with his gender and everything to do with the person that he was and the way he made her feel. That happiness that was so obvious in the other couple? She knew she would have that…with him. Only with him.

She knew then, in that moment, that she wanted children with him…she wanted _everything_ with him. The idea of a child that was half her, half Bellamy…it made something inside her _ache_. But she also knew that he’d probably want to look into adoption or fostering someday…wanting to give kids like himself and Octavia loving homes…and that only made her love him more.

The idea of a family…someone to kiss in the park while your children played nearby…it was no longer some far off ‘maybe.’ It wasn’t an ‘eventually.’

She _wanted_ it.

_Soon._

_With Bellamy._   

She was just going a little sappy, thinking about what an amazing father he would be to any child he claimed, whether it was biologically his or not, when Bellamy started speaking.

“I don’t think it was really this place that was so special when I was a kid,” he admitted quietly, staring out at the lake.

“What was it then?”

He shrugged a little, seemingly embarrassed.

She squeezed his arm. “Tell me.”

“I think it was more about how I felt when I was here: happy and…loved and…like maybe I could have everything I wanted.”

“Do you have a place that makes you feel like that now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, looking down at her. “I do.”

Clarke gazed up at him, _almost_ certain she wasn’t taking his statement the wrong way and pretty much having to actively talk herself out of convincing him to knock her up right now.

She was pretty sure even they couldn’t convince themselves they could get pregnant platonically…but she was about 30 seconds away from trying.

She abruptly stood up. “The movie starts in 10 minutes, if you still want to go.”

Bellamy looked at her a little oddly, but nodded, standing up to join her.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke and Bellamy had the entire movie theater to themselves, since it was a Thursday afternoon. Luckily, the theater still showed cartoon matinees, and Clarke had determinedly told the college-aged boy working the counter that she wanted two tickets for the 1:30 showing of _Dumbo_ , which had earned her an odd look from the boy and a fond grin from Bellamy, who was the only one that mattered in this situation.

They’d picked the best seats in the house, next to last row, directly in the middle, and Bellamy hadn’t even hesitated in putting the chair arm between them up so they wouldn’t be separated.

They sat through the previews and a few commercials, still holding hands as the lights finally dimmed and the opening credits rolled.

Clarke knew she’d seen the movie as a child, but she really couldn’t remember anything about the plot beyond ‘large-eared elephant that can fly’ and maybe something about a mouse?

They watched the beginning…sitting comfortably as the stork delivered a baby elephant to Mrs. Jumbo and he earned the nickname ‘Dumbo’ because of his large ears.

Everything was fine for the next few minutes, during the musical numbers and as it showed the circus and Dumbo getting teased about his ears.

It wasn’t until the next part that Clarke started to watch in horror, wondering if she’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

On screen, Mrs. Jumbo had lost her temper at those making fun of her son, and she’d gone into a frenzy, throwing things and hitting people with her trunk. People from the circus had locked her up, putting her away in a tiny cart covered in signs that read “Mad Elephant.”

The next scenes showed Mrs. Jumbo, chained up inside a cage she could barely move in, anguished because she couldn’t be with her son, and then it showed Dumbo, sitting alone outside, desolate and crying because he had no one.

The whole thing would’ve been extremely sad under normal circumstances, but now…

Clarke felt tears come to her eyes, and she turned to Bellamy, starting to apologize, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t remember…”

There were tears streaming down his face, but he shook his head, glancing quickly at her before fixing his eyes back on the screen. “It’s okay.”

Clarke watched him for a minute, realizing that this was the first time he’d cried… _really cried_ …since his mom had died. He’d shed a tear or two here and there, she knew he’d been sniffling a little at the funeral that morning, and his eyes had been red when he’d left the gravesite…but she was pretty sure this was the first time he’d really let himself feel everything.

She could only imagine what was going through his head…imagining Aurora locked up in the nursing home for the past 15 years…seeing himself…or maybe himself and Octavia in the poor abandoned baby elephant. Clarke wondered too if there was a part of him that was crying for what could have been…if Aurora had fought as hard for her children as Mrs. Jumbo was for hers.

Clarke released Bellamy’s hand, kicking off her heels and then turning sideways in her seat toward him and pulling her legs up beside her, thankful that her dress was long enough to cover everything important. She wrapped her arms around his arm, then pressed a kiss to where his arm met his shoulder.

She stayed like that for a moment, looking up at him to make sure he was okay.

His eyes stayed on the screen, but his arm moved, going diagonally across her body to grasp her thigh, holding her tightly to him.

Clarke eventually turned back to the movie, but they stayed in that position, holding onto each other as the movie played.

By the time it was over, Clarke was thanking God and Walt Disney that it was only an hour long, because she didn’t know how much more of it she could take.

She was pretty sure Bellamy had cried on and off during the rest of the movie, some combination of the plot that hit a little too close to home and being back in this theater on the day of his mother’s funeral too much to bear dry-eyed, and she’d had to physically force herself not to do more to comfort him.

Everything in her wanted to hug him…to kiss him…to crawl into his lap and tell him everything was going to be okay, but she made herself stay where she was, tucked into his side as he dealt with his grief…and maybe with his demons. She knew he needed to do this…and apparently, so did he.

They waited until the credits had rolled and the lights had brightened a tiny bit before they finally moved, sitting up straighter and turning to look at each other.

Bellamy looked a tad embarrassed, huffing a bit of a laugh as he hurriedly tried to wipe his cheeks with the back of his hands.

Clarke tsk’d him, immediately reaching up to replace his hands with her own, gently wiping the tears off his face.

She leaned forward, kissing his cheeks a bit haphazardly before pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth and then hugging him tightly, all the while wondering why most of their kisses tasted like tears--like grief and heartache and so much need it was almost painful.

Was that their fate? To only admit they needed each other like this…wanted each other like this…when life was too hard to bear without it?   

God, she hoped not.

She pulled back a little, looking into his eyes. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, apparently eager to leave, just as he had been at the graveyard.

And yeah, Clarke could understand not wanting to be somewhere you’d just had your heart broken. She could understand it perfectly.

They made their way outside, past the college kid lounging against the counter in the empty lobby and scrolling through his phone. He looked at them a little oddly again, and Clarke was sure they made quite a picture: two twenty-somethings wearing what looked like business-casual clothes and coming out of a Disney cartoon with red, puffy eyes and holding onto each other like their lives depended on it.

They both breathed a little easier when they hit the sidewalk, strolling silently down the street back toward the lot outside the park, where Clarke had parked her car.

When they reached it, Bellamy stopped, looking back over at the gate.

Clarke noticed that although his eyes were red and he still seemed a little sad, the aura of despair…of hopelessness…that had shrouded him for the past few days seemed to have lifted.

He turned to her, wrapping his arms around her in what she could only describe as a bear hug.

“Thanks for this,” he mumbled into her hair, his hand tangling in her curls. “Thanks for…everything.”

She nodded against his shoulder as she replied, “Of course.” She knew ‘you’re welcome’ was the standard response to ‘thank you,’ but that would’ve made this seem like a favor…something he owed her for or something she’d done out of obligation…and that wasn’t what it had been at all.

He finally released her, stepping back a bit as he gazed over at the park again.  

“Did it…help?” she asked cautiously.

He nodded. “I don’t think I knew how much I needed this. All of this…” he gestured around, indicating everything they’d done in the past couple hours during their trip down memory lane. “…it made me realize…I said goodbye to her a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke replied softly.

He shrugged, as if there was no helping it, so there was no use in worrying about it. “But now…when I remember her…maybe I’ll be able to remember her like this.”

Clarke smiled sadly at him, both heartbroken that he only had a few good memories of his mother and so so glad that maybe he’d be able to hold on to them better now. “Ready to go home?”

He nodded, and they got into her car, where Clarke pulled her phone out of her purse.

“I’ve got like 15 texts from everyone. They all want to see you…make sure you’re okay,” she said, glancing at him. “They know you might not want bothered though. What do you want me to tell them?”

He met her gaze, and he looked more like himself than he had in days. “They still offering food?” he asked, half joking.

She smiled a little, nodding.

“Only if we can do take-out, yeah? These clothes are killing me,” he said, leaning back to rest his head against the seat.

Yeah, his clothes were killing her too.

Clarke typed out a quick response and got one back immediately. “Raven’s in an hour. They’re supplying everything…all we need to do is show up.”

Bellamy nodded.

Clarke sent another text, letting Raven know they’d be there, before she started the car and pulled out on the street.

“You don’t happen to have any deviled eggs, do you?” Bellamy asked a little sourly, again glaring at the lawyer’s office across the street.

Clarke laughed, brighter and louder than she’d allowed herself to in days. “Sorry, fresh out.”

She waited until they were stopped at a red light to turn toward him again. “Seriously though…I had no idea Dumbo was…about that. Legit, all I remembered was the elephant that flew with his giant ears.”

“It’s okay, Clarke. It was probably a good thing,” he answered, not sounding bothered by it at all, at least not now.

“Honestly?” Clarke asked. “…I was just super relieved it wasn’t _Bambi_.”

She practically held her breath, waiting for his reaction, but she needn’t have worried.

His laughter rang out through the car, and Clarke breathed a little easier, because yeah, he was going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: +10 to anyone who caught the Gilmore Girls reference. 
> 
> Octavia made Bellamy watch it with her when she was a teenager, okay?


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the fake-out with the half-posted chapter, but we needed reinforcements and I was hoping to motivate. ;)  
> Good news is, Bob won, so thanks to everyone who took my bribe seriously and voted. You da best.
> 
> Here's the entire chapter, as promised.
> 
> Delinquent bonding, some Clarke insight, Clarke/Raven bonding, and then a bit of a cliffhanger...but this one should be more enjoyable. 0:)
> 
> Note: Raven isn't injured in this AU, because while my AU!Murphy is a curmudgeonly ass, he's not an (attempted) murdery ass.

Clarke and Bellamy had gone back to his apartment to change clothes, and then they walked over to Raven’s, Bellamy now clad in jeans and a dark blue Henley, and Clarke in leggings and a soft green sweater that hung off both shoulders, giving her a sort of 80’s vibe that she kind of liked.

If Bellamy’s admiring glance over her neck and shoulders, bare except for the soft blonde curls that fell against them, was any indication…he kind of liked it too.

He’d seemed a tad keyed up when they’d first gotten to Raven’s, as if uncomfortable with the sympathy he thought he might receive, but their friends seemed to realize he didn’t want to be the center of a pity party, and after they’d each hugged him, they’d strived to make it like any other group get together, if a tiny bit more subdued.

They’d sprung for the family style Chicken Parmesan and spaghetti from Salerno’s, complete with salad, garlic bread, and even chocolate chip cannoli for dessert, which seemed to distress Bellamy greatly.

“I thought you guys meant pizza or burgers or something. I didn’t want you to do all this…” he’d said, almost embarrassed.

Raven, ever so helpful in her delicate way, had nipped that in the bud immediately. “I’m an engineer and these two idiots…” she said, gesturing toward Jasper and Monty. “…are chemists. It’s not like we can’t afford to buy you a decent dinner. Don’t make it weird, Blake.”

Clarke had tried not to snort, but hadn’t entirely succeed, so she’d turned it into a cough.

It was only a few minutes later though, when Clarke had tried to give Miller money for her part of the dinner in the kitchen and he wouldn’t accept, that Clarke understood a little of what Bellamy had been feeling: a bit of embarrassment, a bit of unworthiness, and a bit of incredulity…that they had people who cared about them this much.

At some point, Raven brought out an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, and everyone added some to their glass, knowing that if any day had ever needed some Jack…it was today.

After dinner, they cycled through different activities, as they usually did. Jasper and Monty had taken over Raven’s TV, using it to play video games, Miller had slid into the seat next to Bellamy, showing him a bow he wanted to get before next fall’s hunting season, and Raven had taken Clarke into her bedroom, asking for her opinion on an outfit to wear to an upcoming office party.

Clarke watched in some amusement as Raven pulled out a couple of dresses that were skin-tight and showed a fair amount of skin, one in the leg department, the other in the chest department.

“Office party?!” Clarke asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not like…balloons and Walmart cake in the lobby. It’s some kind of mixer thing our office puts on every year to try to woo new clients. It’s in the ballroom at the Four Seasons. From everything I’ve heard, everyone gets drunk and acts really inappropriately,” Raven said nonchalantly. “Apparently, that’s how we get our clients?”

Clarke snorted. “I assume Wick is going to be in attendance?” she asked, trying not to grin.

Raven just glared at her. “Which one, Griffin?”

Clarke studied them for a second, quickly picking up the red one that was as short as you could feasibly get away with at a semi-work function. “This one,” she said definitively, wanting Raven to highlight her best feature, which was definitely her long, slender legs.

Raven was still eyeing her a bit angrily. “Shoes?”

Clarke eyed the heels Raven had set on the floor in front of her, but quickly dismissed most of them as either too short of a heel or too “business-casual.”

“Do you remember those black heels I wore to that club we went to downtown on New Year’s Eve?” Clarke asked.

Normally, she wouldn’t expect Raven to remember her shoes from what was probably two years ago, but they’d been pretty perfect shoes, kind of a cross between a high-heeled bootie and a pump, black leather, with an open toe and laser cut-outs all over them. Raven and Octavia had both complimented her on them multiple times that night.

They were probably the closest thing to a “fuck me” shoe Clarke owned, and you could actually walk in them. They would make Raven’s legs look _amazing._

“Yes!” Raven exclaimed. “Can I borrow them?! They’ll make Wi...” Raven stopped abruptly, again glaring at Clarke, who only laughed.

“Yes, you can borrow them,” she chuckled.

Raven rolled her eyes, muttering a ‘Thank you’ as she hung the dresses back up in her closet.

Clarke sat down on Raven’s bed, swirling the whiskey left in the bottom of her coffee cup.

She wasn’t sure what it was with them drinking alcohol out of the most random glasses, but she kind of liked it.

“Have you talked to Octavia today?” Clarke asked, a bit warily.

Raven and Octavia hadn’t really been that close before…Clarke had usually been the one that brought them together, but ever since Clarke’s vanishing act, she’d gotten the feeling that the two of them had gotten closer on their own, in a relationship that didn’t include her. Honestly, she felt a little weird that the two of them were close without her.

“I called her after the funeral,” Raven said, tossing the rejected shoes none-too-gently into the bottom of her closet. “Thought she might have questions about how it went.”

Clarke didn’t say anything, waiting while Raven slid the closet doors closed and turned around.

“She didn’t,” she finished, looking at Clarke.

Clarke started to open her mouth, but Raven held up a finger, telling her to wait a minute as she went and quietly closed the door to her bedroom.

“I know she kind of hated her mom,” Raven said quietly, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Clarke. “But I thought she’d show up for this. I mean…my God.”

Clarke nodded. “I know. I get that she didn’t want to be here for her mom…but how could she not come back for her brother?! He…didn’t take it well. At least not at first. I think he’s doing a little better now though. But he needed his sister, and I can’t believe she didn’t even think about that.”

Raven was studying her a little peculiarly. “Did he?”

Clarke frowned. “Did he what?”

“Did he need his sister?”

“Of course he did. She’s the only family he’s got left.”

“Seems to me like you’re the one that’s been getting him through this,” Raven said, picking at a thread on her jeans as she tried for nonchalance.

Clarke paused a little, letting that sink in before she replied. “Yeah, but he only wants me because she’s not here.”

Raven tilted her head, raising her eyebrows in a thinly veiled interpretation of _‘I can’t believe I’m friends with someone this dense.’_ “He. Loves. You.” she said emphatically, pausing after each word as if Clarke were a toddler. “You idiot,” she finished, although without any malice.

Clarke was already shaking her head. “You can’t know that.”

“I’d bet every penny I have on it.”

“Has he told you that?”

Raven pursed her lips. “No. You want me to go ask him?”

“No!” Clarke said, a little too loudly.

She paused, but apparently the sound of whatever video game the boys were playing in the other room covered her insistent response.

“Even if he does, now’s not the time, Raven. His mother just died.”

Raven cocked her head again, and it was as if you could see the gears turning in her brain. “You love him. He loves you. Does it really matter how or when it happens, as long as it happens?”

“Number one, _we don’t know if he loves me_ ,” she insisted. “And yes…it matters. If he _does_ feel the same way…then…” Clarke trailed off, looked down at her brightly colored socks, her cheeks growing warm.

“Then…what?” Raven pressed gently.

Clarke met the brunette’s gaze, her eyes intense. “Vault?” she asked, using the term they’d first agreed on back in college to mean ‘a secret that can never be repeated, no matter the circumstances,’ literally ‘keeping it locked up in a vault.’

Raven nodded.

“I’m serious, Raven. If this doesn’t happen or it doesn’t work out…I need to be able to show my face around those guys out there,” she said, gesturing toward the living room as she took a large gulp of whiskey in the form of liquid courage. “And I won’t be able to do that if you tell them this.”

Raven frowned sympathetically. “I get it. Vault,” she agreed.

“If Bellamy does feel the same way, then…he’s it for me. To be honest, even if he _doesn’t_ feel the same way…he’s probably still it for me,” she admitted quietly. “I want everything with him, Raven. The house and the kids and the creaky rocking chairs…every sappy love song you’ve ever heard and every chick-flick you’ve ever seen. I’m just…so far gone for him…we couldn’t just be casual, ya know? And we know each other so well…I feel like we’d either be…nothing or married. I don’t know that we could find a way to do in-between.”

“So what’s the problem with that?” Raven asked. “I hate to tell you this, but you two already act like you’re married. Actually, I’d bet you good money that if you went out there and asked him to marry you right now, he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

Clarke glared at her. “I wasn’t done, Reyes.”

Raven held up her hands placatingly. “Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

 “ _Anyway_. If we end up…together…if it started now…I’d always wonder if he actually wanted to be with me, or if it was some knee-jerk reaction to his grief. I’m so _stupidly crazy_ about him…I don’t think I could handle always wondering if the only reason he was with me was because I’d told him how I felt when he was lonely and desperate for someone to love.”

Raven was studying her, moving her mouth around as she contemplated. “You weren’t kidding; you have got it bad for him.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows in a _‘told ya so’_ gesture.

“A giant part of me just wants to smush your faces together while screaming ‘you love each other, you morons!’ But then I wonder…maybe the reason you two get to have this epic, nauseating love is because you care enough about each other to be miserable until you can find the right time.”

Clarke snorted. “Thanks…I think?”

“Do you have some specific amount of time you’re going to wait after this?” Raven asked curiously as she stood up.

“Not really,” Clarke shrugged. “I’m just going to wait and see what happens. I just want to make sure he’s…himself…before I even think about…”

She wasn’t about to tell Raven this, since admitting that they were now kissing on the regular would open an entirely new can of worms, but Clarke almost felt like she’d done everything _but_ come out and say she was in love with him. Especially given the circumstances, Clarke almost felt like she needed to wait for him to make a move after this was all over.

Raven nodded. “I get it,” she said, grabbing Clarke’s hand and opening the door. “Come on. We need more booze.”

Clarke allowed Raven to drag her back into the kitchen, where she added another healthy dose of whiskey to her cup, then stood by the counter, sipping on it as she replayed parts of her conversation with Raven in her head: both the parts about her feelings for Bellamy and how disappointed she was in Octavia. When Clarke glanced down, she saw her phone sitting on the counter, and before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed it and headed out into the hallway outside Raven’s apartment.

She clicked on Octavia’s number and pressed the phone to her ear, waiting while it rang. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

Clarke pulled the phone away from her ear, frowning at it a bit before she pressed it back to her face, just in time for the shrill beep. “Hey, Octavia. Listen…I told you before how sorry I am about your mom. I know you two weren’t close and I don’t blame you for not knowing how to…deal with all this. But I just…” Clarke sighed, not wanting to go too far out of line, but still anxious to say what needed to be said. “Bellamy had to deal with this on his own. I mean, I tried to be there for him as much as I could, but…you should’ve been here, Octavia. Not for your mom…for him.” Clarke took a breath, closing her eyes. “Don’t hate me, okay? It needed to be said and Bellamy would never say it. He’s so used to protecting you from everything…shouldering the burden himself…but he shouldn’t have had to this time.” Clarke turned around, slowly making her way back to Raven’s apartment. “I’ll talk to you later…if you’re still speaking to me after this. I miss you.”

With that, Clarke reluctantly pressed End, not sure if she’d gone too far or not, but needing to let Octavia know how badly she’d hurt her brother by not coming home.

She walked back into Raven’s, setting her phone back in the kitchen before she headed into the living room.

Everyone was gathered around the coffee table, apparently playing poker.

Clarke perched on the arm of the sofa, right beside where Bellamy was sitting. She automatically put an arm around his shoulders, leaning over to see his cards.

Seemingly just as automatically, he leaned into her, making some sort of “Hmmm” noise.

It wasn’t until he’d leaned forward to collect the two new cards he’d requested from Raven, then leaned back and immediately leaned back into Clarke that she realized they weren’t exactly hiding their newfound ‘closeness’ from their friends.

No, they weren’t making out in front of them, but they’d held hands in front of them all morning, at the funeral, and now they were being extremely touchy-feely in front of everyone…

…and no one seemed to find anything out of the ordinary about it, Clarke realized.

She wondered if it was because they thought Bellamy needed comforted or if…maybe they were like Raven and were aware that she and Bellamy were dancing around…something.

Honestly, Clarke didn’t know if she could handle that.

She brought her cup to her lips, taking another gulp as she wondered if their entire group of friends was aware of how pathetic she was for her best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple hours later, Bellamy and Clarke stumbled a bit through his front door, grinning at each other a little breathlessly as they closed the door and righted themselves.

They’d spent the last two hours at Raven’s, playing poker and drinking, and Clarke had lost count of how many ‘splashes’ she’d added to her glass. She wasn’t drunk drunk, just tipsy enough to get the giggles…or sappy, depending on how the rest of the night went. All she knew was that she felt lighter than she had in days, and Bellamy seemed to be in a similar place as he leaned against the wall, a half grin on his face as he studied her.

Clarke wanted to keep that grin on his face for as long as humanly possible.

She grabbed his hand, tugging him into the kitchen. “Let’s make cookies!”

“Cookies?” he questioned, laughing.

“Yes! Cookies! Do you have chocolate chips?”

Her slightly addled brain wasn’t quite sure why she’d decided that cookies were the way to go, but it was some combination of the extreme case of the munchies she’d contracted and her recollections of how much Bellamy loved it when she baked.

“Of course I have chocolate chips,” he scoffed. “I’ve kept chocolate chips in the cupboard since your sophomore year, when you broke up with douc…Finn,” he corrected himself, although he did so grudgingly.

She’d gone on a bit of a baking bender at Bellamy’s apartment after the Finn catastrophe, and her most featured variety of self-medication in the form of baked goods had been chocolate chip cookies. After all, what was better than comfort food for a broken heart?

Clarke was frowning at him a bit as she got out the flour and sugar. He’d kept his cupboard stocked with chocolate chips since then? Bellamy didn’t even have that much of a sweet tooth…  

She flashed back to Thanksgiving, when he’d asked her to wait for him to come home to start working on the pies. “What’s with you and the baking?” she asked, although she wasn’t really sure if that made sense once she said it out loud. It made sense in her head.

“Huh?”

“I’ve never seen you bake on your own and you’re not even that crazy about desserts. Why do you always want me to bake?” She paused, thinking about it. No, that wasn’t quite right. “Why do you always want to bake with me?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but she _swore_ she caught a slight flush on his cheeks. “You’re getting paranoid or something, Clarke. Maybe I’m just amazed that you can be in a kitchen without burning the whole place down.” He walked over to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a bag of chocolate chips out of the cabinet above the fridge. “Here,” he said, handing them to her. “I’ll be right back.”

Clarke stared after him with a bit of a narrowed eye, wondering why he was deflecting.

“Damn Jack Daniels,” he muttered on the way into his bedroom, making Clarke laugh out loud, because she’d broken the seal about an hour ago and could fully sympathize.

By the time he got back a couple minutes later, clad in sweatpants, she’d collected everything they needed and completely forgotten about her previous line of questioning.

“Come onnnn, Bellamy. I need food.”

“You just ate your weight in spaghetti,” he responded.

“Are you fat shaming me?” she asked, knowing very well he wasn’t.

“No,” he answered, coming into the kitchen to join her. “I also ate my weight in spaghetti. How the hell are we hungry again?”

“Whiskey,” Clarke answered simply. “Now get over here and help me.”

He did, and they worked in sync, measuring ingredients, cracking eggs, and then mixing everything together.

They got the cookies in the oven, and Clarke started washing dishes while Bellamy put everything away.

She was standing at the sink, running hot water into one side when she felt Bellamy come up behind her and put one of his hands on her waist.

She felt just the tips of his fingers in a softer-than-soft caress as he pushed her hair off her shoulder, then leaned down to press a warm kiss to her bare skin.

Clarke was fairly sure she quit breathing. She closed her eyes at the simple touch, every cell in her body coming to life.

The intimacy of it…the anticipation…

It was delicious in a way she’d never experienced before.

Bellamy chose that moment to drop his hands from her, taking a step back as his breath hitched a little, as if he’d just realized what he’d done. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what I was…”

Clarke turned around, grabbing his arm to stop his retreat. She shook her head as she put her other hand on the side of his face. “Don’t apologize,” she insisted, going up on her tiptoes as she pressed her lips to his.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *peeks around the corner*  
> Is anyone still here??  
> I know, it's been over a month since I updated and I'm a terrible person, especially for leaving it on THAT cliffhanger.  
> Idk what to tell you except the end of the season killed me...and I responded by writing my own Season 4 ending, which you should definitely read if you haven't. (Shameless self-promotion: [In Case You Didn't Know](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10933848/chapters/24324372))  
> This chapter should make up for my negligence, just a little. (insert evil grin here)

Clarke heard an insistent beeping, but she steadfastly ignored it, instead focusing on the man in front of her.

Bellamy had her pushed up against the counter, his arms wrapped around her lower back and his body flush against hers.

Clarke wrapped her arms even more tightly around the back of his neck, pressing her torso more firmly against his as they kissed like their lives depended on it.

She wasn’t even sure how or when it had happened, or who had initiated it, but their tongues were sliding insistently against each other, exploring and caressing and creating a kind of inferno Clarke didn’t even know was possible from a kiss.

Bellamy pulled away, seemingly reluctantly, but didn’t go far, just resting his forehead against her hair, his nose bumping her temple.

Clarke whimpered a little at the loss of his lips on hers, trying to chase them with her own.

“The cookies…” Bellamy began, only to stop and clear his throat at the hoarseness he heard when he spoke. “The oven’s beeping.”

_Shit._

Chocolate chip cookies instantly went from Clarke’s favorite to her most hated.

“Right,” she breathed out shakily, slowly forcing her arms to slide off his shoulders.

He took a deep breath, then stepped back, releasing her. “Can you…handle this?” he asked.

She nodded, trying to make out the expression on his face, but finding it mostly unreadable.

She waited until he’d gone over and sat on the couch, scrubbing a hand over his face, before she turned, grabbing the pot holders and pulling the cookie sheets out of the oven.

Luckily, the cookies weren’t burnt, just a little harder than she would have liked.

She set them on the counter to cool, turning off the oven and tossing the pot holders beside the stove.

She glanced back over at Bellamy, finding him sitting on the couch, staring at a particular spot on his coffee table while he absently scratched his arm in what she was pretty sure was some variation of a nervous tic.

Taking a deep breath, she got out a plate and a spatula, scooping half a dozen cookies onto it as she wondered what she’d gotten herself into now.

They’d crossed a new line, and the air between them felt thicker than it ever had, the tension and the desire almost a living thing, pulsing and beating between them…urging them toward each other.

Clarke’s body…and her heart…were ecstatic about this new development…but her brain was throwing up red stop signs every 15 feet.

The problem was, the Jack Daniels in her system made them look more like yellow ‘proceed with caution’ signs.

She grabbed the plate and walked over to set it on the coffee table, then took the seat beside Bellamy. “They were in a little too long, but they should be alright,” she mentioned casually.

He apparently took the cue from her, nodding and reaching for a cookie, then biting half of it off in one fell swoop.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, grabbing a half-empty bottle of water that she was pretty sure was hers and guzzling some of it.

“They literally just came out of the oven, Bellamy,” she said dryly.

He side-eyed her as he put the cap back on the bottle, then took a smaller bite. “But see, if I eat them all before they cool off, that means you don’t get any.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning forward to grab one for herself.

He shouldered her out of the way.

“Jackass!” she exclaimed, shoving him playfully.

He put the last bit of cookie on his outstretched tongue, pulling it into his mouth and then smirking at her, and Clarke had a mild hot flash, because, yeah, that  _did_  things for her.

She tried to ignore it, hurriedly lunging forward and nabbing a cookie off the plate before he could react, immediately stuffing part of it in her mouth.

“Yeesh,” he chuckled. “Never stand in-between drunk Clarke and a plate full of cookies.”

“Damn straight,” she muttered, finishing off the cookie.

Bellamy was still chuckling as he turned sideways to look at her better. “You’ve got, uh…” he reached his hand out a little hesitantly, thumb brushing gently against the side of her mouth.

Clarke held perfectly still, watching his eyes as he stared at her mouth. It wasn’t until he started pulling his hand away that she saw what he’d been doing.

Apparently, she’d had a bit of melted chocolate on the corner of her mouth, and it was now on his thumb.

His thumb…which it looked damn well like he was about to bring to his own mouth to clean off.

Something flared, hot and bright inside her, and she couldn’t stop it…she didn’t want to.

She grabbed his wrist, her gaze catching his surprised one. She slowly, deliberately, drew his hand back toward her, then kept her eyes on his as she brought his thumb to her mouth.

It was the swipe of her tongue, the gentle scrape of her teeth, and the barest hint of chocolate on her taste buds…and then he was surging forward to kiss her, barely managing to get his hand out of the way before his lips connected with hers.

She ended up leaned back, against the arm of the couch, her legs stretched out over his lap as he was turned sideways, pressing into her, one hand grasping tightly to her thigh.

As they kissed deeply, passionately…a little frenzied…her hands made their way into his hair, running through the dark curls that were so soft under her fingers.

She was a little obsessed with his hair, and she wasn’t even sure why, but having the freedom to touch him like this while she was kissing him…it made it all the more heady.

Clarke wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but she was starting to get a little light-headed from lack of oxygen…(or was it just from him?) by the time he moved his lips from hers, pressing kisses down her cheek and then onto her neck.

Clarke’s head fell back against the arm of the couch involuntarily, both because his lips on her neck were a whole new kind of delicious torture…and to give him more room to keep inflicting said torture.

He made his way down, pressing a few kisses to her bare shoulder, but she noticed he made no move to go lower, even though her shirt had an extremely wide neck, which would have made it easy.

By some sort of silent mutual agreement, they both slid down, until they were both lying down, her on her back, him leaning over her a little, his face still buried in her neck.

She used her hands, which were still tangled in his curls, to pull his head back up to hers.

They kissed more slowly this time, some of the frenzy having worn off now that they both thought this might be more of a marathon event than a sprint.

He licked into her mouth, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that came from her throat.

He pulled back, staring down at her, a bit of wariness on his face. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

He looked at her like he didn’t quite believe her.

She couldn’t help the grin the crossed her face, because _God_ , he was such a gentleman. In a handy case of reverse psychology, it only made her want to tell him to shut up and get back to kissing her.

“Hey,” she said, thumb rubbing just below his ear as her hand rested on the side of his neck. “I’m good, I promise. I’m… _really_  good with this,” she whispered, referring to whatever it was they were doing…although she wasn’t really sure what it was they were doing, truth be told.

She suddenly remembered how much Bellamy had drunk, and then she started to wonder if she was the jerk. “What about you?”

“Hmm?” he asked, a bit distracted as he stared at her lips.

“Are you drunk?”

He scoffed. “No.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not,” he insisted, as his eyes locked on hers. “Besides…” he said, his thumb rubbing slow circles onto her ribs. “…we’re just…kissing…right?”

She stared up at him, her fingers flexing on the back of his neck as she started drowning in the tiny bit of brown that was still visible in his eyes.

She knew what they were doing: they were both wondering if this was okay…if they could convince themselves that this was okay, and it had little to nothing to do with alcohol consumption.

“Right,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper.

She raised up at the same time he leaned down.

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed until Clarke was dizzy with it.

They varied…from playful…to passionate…to sweet…and so many other variations that Clarke didn’t even know how to name, but they were all amazing.

She knew she’d been calling what they were doing before ‘making out,’ but those seemed like grandmotherly pecks compared to this.

She guessed it would be like what most people did in high school…making out on your parents’ couch but knowing you couldn’t take it any further. But honestly, she’d never experienced anything like this in high school. She didn’t think she’d experienced anything like it ever.

His hand was rubbing up and down her side, he was caging her in, surrounding her until he was all she could feel…was all she  _wanted_  to feel…and he was kissing her like he meant it.

It was  _so goddamn good_.

She loved him  _so goddamn much_.

He moved back to her neck, mouthing at it for a minute before his head fell to her shoulder.

He huffed a soft laugh.

“What?” she whispered.

He kept his forehead against her shoulder.

She tugged on his curls a little. “Bell, what is it?”

He pulled back to look at her, his face bright and a little unsure, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Yeah, well, that made two of them.

He shook his head, a little dazed, his eyes soft. “I love kissing you,” he admitted, a smile on his face but his voice almost…reverent.

She couldn’t stop the sweet, blinding smile that crossed her face as a breathy chuckle escaped her. “I love kissing you, too.”

His grin widened as he leaned down, bumping his nose against hers before he kissed her top lip. “Yeah?” he asked, a little playfully.

She responded by leaning up and kissing his bottom lip. “Yeah.”

It was a little hard to kiss each other properly with the giant grins they were both sporting, but they eventually figured it out, soon becoming a tangle of limbs as they melted into each other.

Clarke would have been content to stay wrapped up in this bubble with him for…well…always, but it soon became hard to ignore her bladder, which had decided it was full.

Seriously, what was it with her having to pee at the most inopportune times?

Damn Jack Daniels.

“Bell,” she murmured against his lips.

He hummed in response, but it didn’t really seem to register.

She pulled back a little, but he chased her lips, catching them again, and it was such a rush she immediately forgot what she was trying to do, until a minute later, when her bladder protested again.

She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing a little. “Bell, wait.”

That finally got through his kiss induced fog and he pulled back, looking at her worriedly, as if afraid he’d done something she didn’t like.

_Idiot._

She leaned up to press her lips to his quickly, both to reassure him…and because she just couldn’t help it. “Everything’s fine,” she promised, sliding away from him to sit up. “I just have to pee.”

He sat partially up beside her, and she couldn’t resist leaning in again, pressing short kisses to his mouth in-between words as she stood up. “I’ll…be….right…back,” she promised, finally tearing herself away from him to walk to the bathroom.

She quickly took care of her whiskey problem, then stood at the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands.

She took in her appearance: red, swollen lips, her hair tangled and disheveled beyond all repair…her eyes sparkling and a seemingly permanent grin on her face.

She looked…happy.

Clarke dried her hands, then took a second to swap out her sweater for one of Bellamy’s softest t-shirts. She’d pretty much been experiencing a permanent hot flash since they’d started, and she’d rather not pass out in the middle of…whatever it was they were doing.

She walked back out into the living room, scarcely feeling her feet touch the floor.

Bellamy had sat up properly on the couch, and he glanced up when he heard her coming.

She had to tell herself to keep going, because the way he looked almost stopped her in her tracks.

He had a similar version of the disarrayed hair, swollen lips, and stupid grin going on, but when he looked up and saw her, something that looked an awful lot like possession entered his eyes, and Clarke felt it all the way to her toes as something visceral in her own body answered.

She walked to stand in front of him, grinning down at him. “Hi,” she whispered.

He moved forward, interlacing the fingers of both their hands, then tugged gently, getting her to lean down, until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. “Hi.”

She closed the last few centimeters between them, pressing her lips to his.

He responded eagerly, trying to pull her closer, but their positions weren’t very conducive to that.

Some combination of him pulling backward and her moving forward found her straddling him on the couch, a knee on each side of his hips.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her closer.

She rested her arms on his shoulders, looking down from a bit of a height advantage.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said, voice low.

“Mmhmm.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when you wear my clothes?” he asked gruffly.

Clarke’s grin widened as she leaned down, teasing him with a brush of her lips against his. “Yeah?”

He responded by catching her lips with his.

Clarke wasn’t even sure how or when it happened, but they ended up back in their previous position, laying down, him slightly over her.

She was lost in it…the feeling of his weight on top of hers, the rhythmic push and pull of their lips and tongues, the way their hands roamed and caressed, creating a delicious sort of friction and leaving goosebumps in their wake, even though they were both careful to stay in neutral territory.

When Bellamy shifted a bit, moving his lower body away from her, Clarke made a frustrated noise in her throat and tried to follow, wanting to feel as much of him against her as possible.

It wasn’t until she’d swiveled her hips and pressed against him that she realized why he’d moved…because his erection was now resting hard and heavy against her hip.       

Bellamy froze, then pulled away, an almost embarrassed look on his face.

He winced, looking somewhere near her shoulder. “Sorry.”

‘ _Idiot_ ,’ she again thought fondly.

“Bell…I’d be a little offended if that  _didn’t_  happen at some point.”

His eyes swiveled to hers, a little surprised, a little relieved, as he huffed out a laugh.

“Do you…need a minute?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“ _Thank God_ ,” she responded, pulling his head back down to hers.

But, it only took a few minutes for Clarke to realize that she’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

She’d thought she was keyed up before…but it was nothing compared to how she felt now, proof of his desire resting just inches from where she really wanted it.

She wanted to grab his hand and push it underneath her leggings, so he could feel the proof of just how badly she wanted him too.

She wanted to open her hips, shifting until he rested  _exactly_  where she wanted him.

She wanted to beg him to make love to her.

Clarke was struggling, the physical pleasure and need thrumming through her body making it almost impossible for her to think straight.

She remembered Raven, and even her own mother telling her how much Bellamy loved her…how rare the kind of relationship they had was…and how she’d be a fool to waste it, and she started to shift, spreading her legs.

…and then she remembered what she’d told Raven, about how this wasn’t the time…how she didn’t want to take advantage of his grief.

She pulled away abruptly, sliding out from under him and almost falling off the couch in her haste to get up.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked, confused.

She didn’t turn around, practically jogging to the bathroom and quickly shutting the door, leaning against it as she caught her breath.

She had to wait a minute for her body to calm down before she could even begin to think, rubbing her hands over her face as she tried not to cry, the physical let down and the emotional turmoil a little too much to handle all at once.       

Finally, she walked over to the tub, sitting on the edge as she leaned forward, resting her head in her hands.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice called from outside the door. “Is everything…okay?” He asked, and he sounded worried.

Of course he was the one checking on her, even when she was the one fucking everything up.

“Yeah,” she called out, then wanted to curse her voice for shaking. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She could tell he stayed there for a moment, probably uncertain about whether he should leave or not, but he finally did, his footsteps moving away slowly.

Honestly, it made her want to cry even more, because he deserved so much better than her lightning fast flip-flopping and her inability to make a decent decision, even when he was depending on her.

So many things were telling her that this was okay…that they loved each other and the timing didn’t matter…but then she realized that he’d never expressed any sort of romantic feelings for her.

He’d been good with this newfound physical aspect to their relationship, yes, and his body had indicated a desire to take it even further…but he hadn’t attempted to take it any further. He’d also been the one that had made sure to review the new boundaries of their relationship earlier tonight, just as they’d gotten started.

Maybe he was just seeing this in the context of a special circumstance of their friendship.

After all, more than a few friends had a fuck buddies sort of relationship and it worked out fine. Mutual needs were met and fun was had, and all with someone you trusted instead of a stranger you picked up at a bar or on Tinder.

Actually…that was a lot of what the old version of Bellamy had done...the one she’d known her Freshman year of undergrad, when she’d still considered him an ass. His ‘relationship’ with Roma had mostly consisted of bar dates and sex.

His odd foray into an exclusive (although short) relationship with Gina notwithstanding, maybe that was all Bellamy wanted…someone he could have sex with occasionally and it not go any further.

Clarke’s heart broke a little at that thought. She didn’t want that for him, even if he  _didn’t_  want to be with her.

Honestly, Clarke almost wished she was a little stronger…that she could handle being his ‘friend with benefits’…because she could only imagine how amazing the sex would be.

Making out with him was pretty much her best sexual experience to date, so the thought of actual sex with him…

Clarke shook her head, trying to get rid of that train of thought.

There was no point.

She knew she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make love to him and not tell him she was in love with him. She couldn’t make love to him and not be  _with him_.

She wasn’t really sure how she was supposed to go back to ‘just friends’ after everything they’d shared the past few days.

Now that she knew what it was like to kiss him…how was she supposed to  _not_?

She put an end to the tortured merry-go-round her mind was on, getting up to splash some cold water on her face and take a deep breath…or 7…before slowly making her way back out into the living room.

She couldn’t get over how different it was from the last time she’d done this, which couldn’t have been more than an hour ago; this time, both of them looked like they were standing on eggshells.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asked, concern evident on his face. “Did I…do something wrong?”

“No!” she answered adamantly.

He looked unconvinced.

She sat gingerly on the couch beside him, careful to leave a little space between them. “We’ve always had a good…chemistry…right?”

He looked at her a little oddly. “Chemistry?”

Clarke was 100% certain her face was currently somewhere between the color of a tomato and that of a fire engine. “We’re comfortable around each other, we have a good rapport, we find each other…attractive.”

“Okay. Yes.” he replied helpfully.

“We’re obviously…physically compatible…” Clarke muttered, gesturing to the couch and then clasping her hands and staring at them.

What came after red? Maroon? Clarke was fairly sure she was now maroon.

“I just…think it would be really easy for us to fall into the ‘friends-with-benefits’ category…and I don’t want that,” she held up a hand, pretty sure she knew what his first response was going to be. “I know, I’m the one that suggested… _this_ …and I don’t regret that. Not at all. I think it was what we both needed. But…”

“But now you think we should stop,” he finished for her, his voice and face both carefully neutral. “Just…go back to the way things were?”

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” she admitted quietly. “If tonight was any indication…we’d be great together. But those kinds of relationships never work out, Bell. Not when you’re as close as we are. You go in with these ‘no-strings’ expectations, but then one person wants to end it and the other one doesn’t, or one person gets jealous, or things get awkward and I just…” she let out a sigh, trying to stop rambling. “As great as I think we might be together…physically… You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you. I’d rather have you as a friend than have a few months of ‘with-benefits’ and then…nothing.”

She waited a few beats and then looked over at him.

He was staring somewhere near the TV, a slight frown on his face.

“Bell?” she asked quietly, hesitantly.

His gaze flicked to hers. “No, I get it. You’re right.”

She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to hear him say that.

He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair, closing his eyes with an almost pained expression. “I need to go to bed. Today has been…a lot.”

When he opened his eyes, he found Clarke looking a little horrified.

“No, no, I didn’t mean this,” he insisted. “I mean…the funeral…the park…it was a lot.”

“I know, but I just hate if I made it worse…”

He patted her knee a little self-consciously. “You didn’t. You were right. This was what I needed. It’s what…endorphins and stuff, right?”

Clarke felt her heart sink. Yes, technically, kissing released feel-good hormones, but that hadn’t been the reason she’d done it, or at least not the paramount one. But if that’s how he was categorizing it… “Right. Dopamine and oxytocin too,” she added, each word breaking her heart a little more.

He nodded. “I’m going to lay down. Do you want to take the bed? I can sleep out here,” he replied casually, looking somewhere near her knee.

It really was incredible how quickly Clarke had gone from a feeling of euphoria to one of despair. “Bell.”

Her softly worded plea got him to look up.

“Don’t do that. Nothing’s wrong, right? We said that this wouldn’t change anything, and I don’t want it to.”

He nodded, and they moved silently, awkwardly, to lay down on the couch, as if deciding by silent mutual agreement that moving into the bedroom…and into the bed…wasn’t a good idea at the present time.

Clarke laid there, facing the blank TV, and she could feel Bellamy behind her, although he was trying his damndest to stay as far away from her as possible.

She stayed there for a while, telling herself that she could deal with it, until she felt him shift behind her, and she knew he was as uncomfortable as she was.

She turned over, looking up at him. “Are you mad at me?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head, and he seemed sincere.

“You’re still my best friend,” she whispered, placing her hand gently on his cheek. She was pretty sure it was the alcohol lingering in her system that made her continue, “I still love you.”

He was staring into her eyes intensely, his head leaning unconsciously into her touch, and Clarke felt the magic web being woven between them again just like that; they were the only two people in the world and everything would be okay if she could just get closer to him.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to just…” he stopped, either embarrassed or frustrated, or maybe both.

“Supposed to just what?” she asked.

“Just stop kissing you.”

Yeah, that was a problem they both had, apparently.

She felt her resolve weaken with each second they spent gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Today has been…a lot,” she said, repeating his words back to him. She didn’t really want to say the word ‘funeral’ right now. “We should stop…after tonight, right?”

After all, if this was going to be the last time she got to kiss him, she didn’t want to waste it.

She went to move forward, but he stopped her.

“Clarke…are we okay? You’re right, it’s not worth it if we’re not going to be okay.”

She hadn’t really been aware your heart could physically hurt from something as simple as a sentence until she fell in love with this man. “We’re okay, Bell.”

He nodded, and it looked like he started to move toward her until he paused this time. “I don’t want…don’t do this if it’s some attempt to comfort me,” he said, his eyes intense on hers. “Only do this if you want to.”

_God, he had no idea._

She leaned forward, gently pressing her lips against his and instantly feeling the world right itself, even as her heart continued to break.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Listen...I said this chapter should help. 
> 
> I didn't say I was done with the angst. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Who doesn't love Bellarke and their platonic make-out sessions?!


	32. Chapter 32

 

“Now there’s something I never thought I’d see.”

Clarke frowned, her brow furrowing in her mostly still asleep state. She had the beginnings of a hangover, and she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, but that had almost sounded like…

“I guess I know why neither of you were answering your phones, anyway.”

_Octavia._

Clarke moved to sit up abruptly…and instantly collided with Bellamy, who’d done the same.

Clarke pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead, looking up to find Bellamy moving his jaw gingerly.

They both turned, looking over the arm of the couch to find Octavia standing just inside the doorway, hands on her hips and a suitcase at her feet.

“O! What are you doing here?” Bellamy asked, wincing as he moved to sit up, placing a hand under Clarke’s elbow to help her do the same. “And how did you get in my apartment?”

“I’m here because I got an angry voicemail last night that made me see what a bitch I was being,” Octavia admitted, looking at Clarke pointedly, although seemingly not with any anger.

Clarke winced, looking back and forth between the siblings, hoping neither of them would be too angry at her meddling.

Bellamy was just watching her closely, almost studying her, and Clarke looked away uncomfortably as she straightened her clothes and attempted to smooth down her hair.

“And I made a spare copy of your key before I left. I didn’t have a fob for the door downstairs though, so I had to call Raven to let me in when both of your phones kept going to voicemail.”

“Sorry,” Bellamy said, getting up and making his way to his sister, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I think mine died last night. I meant to plug it in, but I must’ve forgotten.”

Octavia pulled back, seemingly more concerned with what was going on in front of her than Bellamy’s dead phone. “So, when did this happen?”

“When did…what…happen?” Bellamy asked, confused.

“ _This_ ,” she said exasperatedly, gesturing back and forth between Bellamy, who was standing beside her, and Clarke, who was fidgeting uncertainly on the couch, unsure of what to do or where to go. “My brother and my best friend start sleeping together and no one thought to tell me?”

Bellamy and Clarke both started to deny it at the same time.

Octavia scoffed. “I _literally_ just walked in on you.”

Clarke could feel her face heating up, and she just glanced uncomfortably at Bellamy before staring somewhere near Octavia’s suitcase.

Honestly, she was too tired to deal with this right now.

Luckily, Bellamy took over the explanation. “We’re not sleeping together, O. We… _fell asleep_ …together…on the couch,” he finished, somewhat lamely.

Octavia was watching them both in that calculating way she sometimes had, eyes narrowed as she focused all her terrifying powers of perception on them. “So, this was a one-time thing? Nothing’s…going on…between you two?”

“Of course not,” Bellamy answered.

Clarke couldn’t help it when her eyes landed on him. Why did he have to sound so damn certain about that?

Clarke had _no idea_ what the hell was or wasn’t going on between them anymore.

When she finally pulled her eyes away from him to glance at Octavia, she found the other girl with a devious expression she didn’t like…not one bit.

Clarke stood up abruptly, heading for Bellamy’s bedroom. “I’m going to go get dressed,” she said, then could have kicked herself, because her statement made Octavia glance down at her clothing, and of course she was wearing one of Bellamy’s shirts, not doing herself any favors in the ‘there’s nothing going on between me and your brother’ department.

Octavia’s smirk only widened.

Clarke made a hasty retreat, walking through the bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

The events of the previous night came flooding back to her all at once.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t remembered them before, but being woken so abruptly by a surprise guest and then the awkward conversation that followed had stopped her from immediately replaying them in her mind.

But now that she was alone, they were playing in full living technicolor, complete with surround sound.

_Bellamy on top of her._

_Her hands roaming over the strong muscles in his back._

_His lips on her neck._

_Her straddling him._

_Him hard against her thigh._

_Her running away, only to come back and kiss him again after explaining why they should stop._

_The way they’d kissed after that, soft and slow, both careful not to get carried away again._

_The way they’d practically fallen asleep still kissing, both barely able to remain conscious, but unwilling to let go of each other for the last time._

_…the way Octavia must have walked in on them this morning, wrapped around each other, their legs tangled together and her head buried in his neck._

Honestly, when had her life become such a clusterfuck?

Clarke wasn’t sure how to deal with…any of this, so she hurriedly got dressed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and then gathering up the toiletries she’d spread out in his bathroom over the last few days.

She stepped quietly out into his bedroom, grabbing her bag and stuffing everything inside.

Gathering her resolve, she walked back out into the living room, catching the tail end of the siblings’ conversation, which made it seem like Octavia was apologizing profusely, probably for not coming home for the funeral.

“I told you, O, it’s okay,” Bellamy said gruffly, his arms wrapped around his baby sister.

Clarke cleared her throat nervously. “I’m going to head home. Give you two time to talk,” she said, grabbing her phone charger, Ipad, and the heels she’d kicked off underneath his coffee table yesterday and hurriedly dropping them all in her bag.

When she glanced at him, Bellamy was watching her mad dash of a cleaning spree and frowning. “Clarke, you don’t have to…”

“You guys need some Blake bonding time and I should be getting home anyway,” she said, pulling on her boots and then walking to stand in front of Octavia. “I hope you’re not mad,” she said quietly.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “If you can’t count on your best friend to tell you when you’re being a selfish bitch, who can you count on?”

Both girls chuckled at that, hugging each other tightly.

“Call me. We’ll have to get lunch or something, okay?” Clarke asked, already on her way to the door.

“Sure,” Octavia answered, again watching Clarke with some sort of amusement.

“I’ll…see you later, Bell,” she said a little awkwardly, nodding in his direction as she opened the door.

“Clarke…wait!” he called after her.

She barely got 10 feet down the hallway before she heard his footsteps behind her as he pulled his door shut.

“Clarke!”

She took a deep breath and turned around.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” she replied.

“You don’t have to.”

She looked at the baseboard near his feet. “I was staying here so you wouldn’t be alone…and now Octavia’s here, so…”

When she looked back up, his face had hardened a bit, closing off. “Right,” he replied.

See? This is what she hadn’t wanted. This awkwardness. This second-guessing of everything they said to each other.

She tried to smile, attempting to show him that everything was okay. “I need to get home and take care of some things. And I need to call Chief Kane and see when I need to make up my shifts…and exams are coming up, so…”

He nodded.

She forced herself to walk to him, hugging him a bit gingerly. “But call me if you need anything, okay?”

His hands took a moment to land on her back, and when they did, they were barely touching her. “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he replied.

Clarke wanted to cry, because how had they screwed this up so much in such a short amount of time?

She made herself let go of him when all she really wanted to do was pull him closer. “I’ll text you,” she promised.

He nodded again.

She turned and walked away from him, and by the time she got in the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor, she was wiping away tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but that seemed an appropriate place to stop for now. I'll try to post again in the next week or so. All I can say is...Octavia always brings trouble...why should my fic be any different? 
> 
> P.S.- The E!Online TV Scoop Awards are currently open, so here's my friendly (read:pushy) reminder to go vote!  
> Bellarke are up for sexiest moment <http://www.eonline.com/news/860903/tv-scoop-awards-2017-vote-for-your-favorite-couple-and-sexiest-moment-now>
> 
> The 100 is up for Favorite Drama, and Bob and Eliza are both up for Best Drama Actor/Actress.
> 
> Go throw some votes around, please and thank you. :)


	33. Chapter 33

_Three Weeks Later_

Clarke headed for Raven’s door, talking over her shoulder to the group assembled in the apartment. “I’ll have him over here in a few minutes! Try to keep it to a dull roar and don’t let Jasper drink all the booze before the actual birthday boy gets here!”

She pulled the door shut behind her to a few grumbles, probably from Jasper, and made her way down the hallway to the elevator.

It was slower going than normal, given her extremely high heeled shoes, so she had a few minutes to think on her way to Bellamy’s.

She was currently wearing those black leather, laser cut-out, peep-toe, stiletto booties…aka, the ‘fuck me’ shoes she’d loaned to Raven a while ago. She paired them with a royal blue mini-dress that was probably her favorite piece of clothing ever. It had a sweetheart neckline and wide straps, but her favorite part was the back, which dipped low, and then had multiple cut-outs that ran around to the sides. It was tight, and it was short, and she probably should’ve found something else to wear, but it was Bellamy’s birthday and she wanted to look fantastic, dammit.

Clarke got in the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, and thought about the past few weeks as she looked up at the numbers.

She’d gone home after leaving Bellamy in his sister’s care, and it had taken her a couple of hours to grab breakfast, shower, and unpack her things. She’d tried to settle back into something resembling her normal routine, but the entire time, she’d found herself thinking about Bellamy: wondering if he and Octavia were doing okay…wondering if he was missing her as much as she was missing him…or if he’d even noticed that she was gone at all. And, most of all, wondering where the hell they went from here. 

She’d known he hadn’t been happy about how she’d left things, but he had to realize that it was a bit of an uncomfortable situation for her, what with Octavia finding them tangled up together and them having no real explanation…or at least not one that made any sort of sense.

She’d kept replaying the morning in her head, and she couldn’t help but to ask herself _why_ he’d seemed unhappy about the way she’d left.

Was it just because she was being a spaz?

Was it because he wanted her to stay…as a friend? …or as…more?

Or…was it because she’d been his emotional support system through one of the biggest losses he’d ever faced in his life and she was abruptly bailing on him?

It was that final thought that had made her pull out her phone, ignore the awkward butterflies in her stomach, and text him.

He hadn’t responded right away, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was busy with Octavia or because he was ignoring her, but she could tell he’d been reading her messages, so she just kept texting.

Honestly, if they were the kind of friends that could play tonsil hockey when the situation warranted, she wasn’t going to feel even a little bad for sending eight unanswered texts in a row.

It had taken a while, but she’d eventually worn him down, and they’d started texting more than they ever had.

They talked about Octavia, Abby, their friends, their jobs…they sent each other memes, got into in-depth discussions about everything from the allegorical situations on Bewitched that were supposed to show the problems a husband could have with his powerful wife, especially in a time when women weren’t supposed to be powerful, to whether Pluto deserved its demotion or not.

(For the record, Clarke voted yes, because _science and consistent criteria_ , while Bellamy voted no, because _you can’t just take that away, Clarke. Don’t you have a heart?! Besides, what am I supposed to do with that damn mnemonic now? My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine doesn’t really have the same ring to it, now does it?)_

From there, she’d teased him, asking how often he’d needed to use that particular mnemonic since he’d graduated from high school over a decade ago, and he’d texted back something about how he’d be damned if he was going to miss those Jeopardy questions if he could help it.

They got into an easy banter that felt almost like the one they shared when they were a few feet apart instead of a good 30-minute drive apart, and Clarke made sure to keep up the contact, even though she really was swamped with work and studying for her exams, because she’d _promised_ him that she’d be there for him…and she was going to be, even if she couldn’t do it in person at the moment.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle seeing him in person… _if she’d be able to handle seeing him in person._

She wasn’t sure how she was just supposed to go from kissing him any time she wanted…holding him any time the mood struck her…to treating him like just another one of her friends. She wasn’t sure if that was possible.

They’d gone almost the entire week without seeing each other, which was _definitely_ weird for them, but she’d been unwilling to put herself in that situation so soon, so she’d used Octavia’s visit as an excuse to stay away.

On her last day in town, Octavia had called Clarke, insisting that she join the Blakes for breakfast before her plane left.

Clarke had shown up at their favorite diner, the one beside the hospital, with a smile on her face but around 1700 pterodactyls flying around in her stomach. She’d greeted Octavia with a warm hug, then smiled tightly at Bellamy, giving him a quick, slightly awkward hug, really more similar to something she’d give Murphy, if she were forced to.

They’d had a nice breakfast, the three of them back together again for the first time in over a year, but thankfully, Octavia had done most of the talking, either not noticing or not commenting on the fact that Bellamy and Clarke weren’t really talking to each other, only to her.

Breakfast had ended, Octavia had gone back to California, and Clarke had gone back home, although she’d immediately texted Bellamy, asking if he was free to go bowling the next day with their group of delinquents, because Clarke _missed_ him, dammit. (Although she hadn’t included that in the text.)

She missed him fiercely, but she wasn’t ready to be back in a super intimate situation with him again…not when her feelings were so raw and she was still unsure of his.

The next few weeks had consisted of a lot of group activities: game night, trips to their favorite bar, and even a hike one semi-warm Saturday. Clarke even went over to Bellamy’s apartment alone a couple times, but always made sure to do it early enough in the day that she wouldn’t be tempted to stay long enough to spend the night.

It was slightly awkward and she always felt like they were both barely breathing at times, waiting for something to happen…waiting for the elephant in the room to say something and force them to face what they were ignoring…but it never happened.

Clarke had just stepped up to Bellamy’s door when she wondered if tonight was going to be more of the same.

She raised her hand and knocked a few times.

Bellamy opened the door a few seconds later, his eyes automatically lighting up when they landed on her.

That was the last thing Clarke noticed before her eyes swept down his body, which was clad in dark jeans and a form-fitting black long-sleeved t-shirt.

By the time her eyes made it back up, over the clearly defined muscles in his chest and shoulders, she took a second to notice that his hair was even more attractively disarrayed than normal before her eyes again went to his.

He however, apparently hadn’t finished his perusal of her…outfit…because his eyes were still glued to the cut-outs in the sides of her dress, which were barely visible from the front.

When he seemed to realize that she was watching him, his eyes hurriedly skimmed over her chest, then back up to her face, a bit of a dazed look on his face as he took in her hair, which was a little wild in its waviness, because why wouldn’t she rock sex hair with ‘fuck-me’ shoes?

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Clarke decided to push the envelope.

She grinned a little wickedly, holding her arms out and spinning a slow circle to let him see the back and sides of her dress…and all the bare skin it exposed.

By the time she faced him again, she was biting her bottom lip, more than a little ready to jump his bones, and his reaction didn’t help in the slightest.

He was staring at her a bit dumbfoundedly, his eyes almost glazed over. “Fuck, Princess,” he muttered, voice low.

Clarke felt heat cover her entire body, especially her…lower regions. It was on the tip of her tongue to respond, _‘Yes, that is_ exactly _what you should do._ ’

She managed to keep it in her proverbial pants though, at least for the time being. “You like?” she managed to say instead, a devious glint in her eyes.

“You look…” he paused, seemingly at a loss for words. It wasn’t until a moment later when he seemed to realize his chin was on the floor and he managed to collect himself a little, a slight flush on his cheeks. “That dress is…uh…something,” he finally managed.

She smirked. “I had to go all out. It is your 30th birthday, after all.”

He studied her for a minute, then nodded.

“You look great too…especially for an old man,” she teased.

As if the words ‘sex on a stick’ hadn’t been playing on a loop in her mind since he’d first opened the door.

“Ha-ha,” he responded, rolling his eyes.

She grabbed his arm, tugging a little. “Come on. We don’t want to be late meeting the others. We’ll need to get you back early. What time do you go to sleep now? Around 10:30?”

“Are you going to do this all night?” he asked as he grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter, then locked the door behind him.

Clarke waited until he turned around to join her to answer. “I’m going to do this for at least the next 5 years, until I turn 30.”

He snorted good-naturedly and started walking down the hallway beside her.

They’d only gone a few feet when they met a woman coming the other way. Bellamy placed his hand on Clarke’s back, moving behind her to get out of the way.

They both smiled at his neighbor, then moved back into a side-by-side position to continue on their way to the elevator.

Except…Bellamy didn’t take his hand off her back.

It was silly, really. It was a casual touch that they’d shared dozens, if not hundreds, of times before.

But not while their relationship was on such tentative ground between friendship and romance.

And not while Clarke’s entire back was almost bare.

Weirdly enough, the cut-outs in her dress almost made it seem even more erotic than if her back had been bare, like with a crop top or a bathing suit.

Clarke had to try even harder to balance in her heels, her equilibrium thrown into outer space by the unexpected intimacy.

“Where are you guys taking me again?” Bellamy asked as they stepped on the elevator.

“Uh…” Clarke scrambled a bit, trying to remember the cover story they’d concocted. “There’s a club over by the college. They have a great DJ…dancing. You know, do your 30th right.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed non-committally, stepping into the elevator behind her and pressing the button for the ground floor.

Clarke turned her head away, trying to hide her grin.

Bellamy, especially for the last few years, was definitely not a ‘club’ sort of guy. Drop Ship was his favorite bar, and it was fairly sedate…and she was pretty sure he mostly went there for the cheap beer, greasy onion rings, and the pool table.

She knew him better than she knew herself most days, so the fact that he was acting like he was happy about their ‘plans’ to take him to a college club, full of hammered 21-year-olds, designer cocktails, and techno music was…well, she wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended.

She and the others had decided that this was a good cover story though, that way he’d be _extra_ happy when he realized they were throwing him a fairly low-key party at Raven’s.

Supposedly, they were going to meet at Raven’s so she could be the designated driver, allowing the birthday boy to imbibe to his heart’s content.

They reached Raven’s door, and Clarke knocked a few times before turning the knob and pushing the door open, Bellamy’s hand still casually resting on her back.

They stepped inside…and were immediately greeted with a loud “Happy Birthday!” from everyone, and it was even mostly in unison.

Clarke looked up at Bellamy, and found him with a huge grin on his face, which he promptly hid in her hair, pulling her against his side.

She laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Happy Birthday, Bell.”

Just after that, people started coming up, saying hello to Bellamy and wishing him a Happy Birthday, and Clarke scooted away, trying to give everyone room.

She ended up standing in the kitchen with Raven, watching as Bellamy kept grinning, slightly embarrassed at all the attention he was receiving.

He ended up getting swept up in the wave of people who eventually led him into the living room.

Raven’s apartment wasn’t all that large, but Miller, Bryan, Jasper, and Monty had all shown up early to help her move things around a bit to make more room.

All that was left in the living room was the couch and the TV, which meant the coffee table, end tables, and everything else was in Raven’s bedroom.

It was a pain, but it gave the 20 or 30 people in attendance a little more room to breathe.

Clarke peeked around the corner, and found Bellamy in the middle of all of their friends…and some people she didn’t really know, some of whom were his co-workers, and a few others who had tagged along with someone else.

Clarke’s eyes ended up locking in on Roma, who she wasn’t exactly expecting.

Her heart stuttered a bit, feeling a clench of jealousy she hadn’t felt since…well, since she’d seen Bellamy with Gina. Except, this time, it was even worse, because this time, Clarke was fully aware that she was in love with Bellamy.

Bellamy…who’d fucked Roma too many times for her to count.

She didn’t think they’d… _hung out_ …in years…but Roma had shown up tonight…so maybe she was wrong about that.

Honestly, it wasn’t a conversation they’d had…and it wasn’t one she wanted to have.

She was, however, aware that he was a very attractive man who had been prone to one-night-stands in the past, so she’d probably be naïve to think that his sex life had been as non-existent as hers had been recently…but some part of her _hated_ that thought.

The thought that maybe…as she was falling deeper and deeper in love with him…sharing so much of her _life_ with him…he may have been out picking up girls in bars or calling up his old fuck-buddy…it didn’t just make her jealous.

It _hurt_.

It hurt in a way nothing to do with a relationship had ever hurt before…not even when she’d actually been cheated on by Finn.

Because this was _Bellamy_ , and everything was _more_ with him.

She unconsciously pulled her lower lip into her mouth, biting on it mercilessly as she fell into some tailspin where she realized that Roma knew Bellamy in a way she didn’t…in a way she probably never would.

And that _really_ fucking hurt.

She was so lost in her self-pity spiral, she didn’t even realize that Bellamy had extricated himself from the group and had made his way up to her…until he reached out to touch her elbow.

“Hey,” he said, a half smile on his face and his head partially tilted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, shaking her head absently.

His hand came up to her face, his thumb gently tugging on her lip until she released it from in-between her teeth. “Clarke…”

His thumb on her mouth sent enough of a shockwave through Clarke to snap her out of it, and she stepped back, heading back into the kitchen. “I was just coming to see what you wanted to drink. We’ve got beer, whiskey, rum, vodka…there’s also a bunch of pop and juice and shit if you want to make a…” she trailed off when he stepped closer, his hand coming back up to her face.

He ran his thumb over her cheek soothingly, his eyes studying her worriedly. “Princess…stop. What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong?

She didn’t think ‘ _I’m so in love with you, it hurts’_ was exactly the answer he was looking for.

She stood there, in Raven’s kitchen, and she knew Raven was standing at the counter, quietly putting junk food in bowls and trying to remain inconspicuous, but all she could do was stare up at him, thinking about how they were in the perfect position for her to lean up and kiss him.

And, she knew, from experience, that kissing him made life better.

But she couldn’t.

That wasn’t what they were to each other.

Just as one part of her brain started to fall back down the rabbit hole into thinking about all the things she didn’t get to experience with him, and probably never would…another part of her realized that she also got a part of him no one else got.

She was getting it right now.

He was here, at his own birthday party…and, at the moment, he couldn’t care less about his friends in the other room, the presents, the food, or the booze. He was standing in the kitchen, caressing her cheek and looking at her like he’d do anything in the world to make her problems go away…and all because he’d noticed she was upset…from across the room.

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Her movement took him by surprise, and it took him a moment to react, but when he finally did, he huffed a bit of a laugh into her hair, then wrapped his arms around her waist.

She held onto him, feeling the solidness of his chest against hers, the warmth of his arms around her, and she realized that she might never know what it was like to be… _intimate_ …with him…but she knew what it was like to be _loved_ by him.

Because he did.

He loved her.

It might not be in the way she wanted…it might not be in the same way she loved him…but he, without a doubt, _loved her_.

And, even if it was platonic, even if it wasn’t everything she wanted…being loved by Bellamy Blake was one of the best things she’d ever experienced…maybe _the_ best.

And while Roma…and whoever else Clarke didn’t really want to think about…might know what it was like to have sex with him…

_She_ was the one he’d drop everything for.

_She_ was the one he’d fight for.

_She_ was the one he’d hold while she cried.

And _she_ was the one he _needed_ …the one he _trusted_ …in the darkest moments of his life…and the one he sought out in the happiest moments of his life.

She bolstered herself with the realization that, if she couldn’t have all of him, she was definitely getting the better end of the deal.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d clung to him, but his hand started running up and down her spine, sending tingles through her.

“I just want to make sure you have a good birthday, okay?” she finally said.

He pulled back enough to see her face, looking at her a bit oddly, as if he didn’t quite buy it.

Somehow, they’d ended up holding hands, and she squeezed both of his with both of hers. “I know life hasn’t exactly been easy on you lately, and I just want you to have a good birthday. You deserve…” she paused, trying to get ‘ _everything’_ off the tip of her tongue. “You deserve to have a good birthday, Bellamy.”

He studied her for another minute, as if trying to gauge her sincerity.

She kept her face as neutral as possible. It wasn’t as if she was lying about what she’d just said.

Finally, one corner of his mouth turned up. “I already am,” he replied, then dropped one of her hands, using his other to tug her back toward the living room. “Come on.”

She started to follow him, until she remembered why she’d stuck her head into the other room in the first place. “Wait! You need a drink!”

“Beer is fine for now.”

She nodded, and turned around to get it, but Raven was already shutting the refrigerator door.

The brunette quickly popped the caps off two beers, and handed them each one with a smirk.

Bellamy accepted his with a nod of thanks, then resumed pulling Clarke into the other room.

Almost everyone turned to look when they reentered the room, and Clarke realized that everyone had to notice their joined hands.

Roma certainly noticed, if the pursing of her lips and her glare was anything to go by.

Clarke couldn’t resist the slight smirk that crossed her own lips, but she did, at least, try to hide it by taking a sip of her beer.

And when Bellamy tugged her over to introduce her to some of his co-workers and their significant others…all while still holding her hand in his…Clarke realized that yeah, she could definitely handle this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Friendly reminder, cause that's just who I am as a person.
> 
> The E!Online TV Scoop Awards are still open, so go vote!
> 
> <http://www.eonline.com/news/860903/tv-scoop-awards-2017-vote-for-your-favorite-couple-and-sexiest-moment-now>
> 
> There are other categories with The 100 nominations too, so go throw some votes around! :)


	34. Chapter 34

 

Clarke leaned a hip against the wall beside Raven’s TV, slowly sipping her Rum and Coke as she watched Bellamy open his birthday presents.

The party had turned into some sort of combination of drunken house-party and actual adult party, and Clarke loved it. It felt like it really represented where they were at in their lives; no longer college idiots, but not quite ready for sedate dinner parties either.

Most of them were making decent money now, and most of Bellamy’s closer friends had shown up with some sort of birthday present.

There were quite a few bottles of booze, some gift cards, and then some miscellaneous presents.

Bellamy had just gotten done opening Miller’s present, a used copy of Donkey Kong for his Nintendo 64, when he picked up Clarke’s gift bag.

She couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face as he reached inside.

He pulled out the pink sparkly hammer that she’d told him about months ago, and she watched as he grinned, then sought her out. “You know I’m going to use this at work, right?”

“That’s what I bought it for,” she replied cheekily, and she heard Murphy snort none-too-delicately on the other side of the room.

Bellamy reached down in the bottom of the bag, pulling out her card.

She watched his face as he opened the envelope, obviously surprised by the card inside.

It was a baseball themed card meant for a child, and she chuckled at his look of confusion, partially because she was definitely going to make it a point to always buy him silly cards, and partially because there was a reason for this particular card.

The reason dawned on him once he opened it and saw what was inside: two tickets to the charity baseball game their town was hosting in a few months between the Washington Nationals and the Baltimore Orioles.

His eyes had just raised to meet hers when Wick let out a loud whistle, reaching for the tickets.

“Dude, how did you get these?! They’re going for like two grand a pop!”

Bellamy’s eyebrows raised, an uncomfortable look passing over his face.

Clarke fairly glared at Wick before turning back to Bellamy. “Don’t worry. I didn’t buy them. I stole them,” she said casually.

Everyone chuckled, and apparently Jasper took that, and the fact that Clarke’s gift was the last, as his cues to turn the music back on, which made everyone start chatting amongst themselves again and made it impossible for Clarke and Bellamy to finish their conversation while they were across the room from each other.

Clarke did, however, take comfort in the fact that Bellamy looked more amused than uncomfortable now.

She held his gaze for another minute, until he got pulled into a conversation with Monty and Harper.

It may have been her imagination, but it almost seemed as if he turned away from her a little reluctantly.

She took a second to just watch him, making sure he was having a good time and drinking in the sight of a Bellamy that seemed mostly carefree.

It had been a while since she’d seen this Bellamy and she took a minute to enjoy it.

He currently had on a silver crown, complete with purple jewels and dainty swirls, which just made everything even better.

Harper had brought over a box of miscellaneous decorations she’d had in her closet, which is where the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner hanging over the couch, the lime green streamers hanging haphazardly and half-assedly from the ceiling, and the baby blue Solo cups they were all drinking out of had come from.

Apparently, it had also contained this ‘party crown,’ which she’d put on as a joke.

Part-way through Bellamy’s gift opening spree, Murphy had slipped it off Harper’s head and placed it on Bellamy’s, claiming it was unfair for anyone else to be sparkly when it was Bellamy’s birthday.

Bellamy had glared at Murphy, blushed like the dork he was, and then left it on good-naturedly when everyone else had insisted.

He’d apparently forgotten it was there, because he was going about his life as if he didn’t have a plastic crown meant for a 12-year-old girl perched atop his dark curls.

Clarke grinned at the sight of that one last time, then headed back into the kitchen, to see if Raven needed any help dealing with the junk food or the drinks.

Between restocking the beer multiple times, opening bag after bag of unnaturally colored snacks, making small talk with people she rarely saw, dealing with the crisis every time they seemingly ran out of ice, and then cutting and handing out pieces of the cake she’d made earlier in the day, it felt like Clarke barely got to spend any time with Bellamy.

It was also exhausting.

It was half past 11 by the time she’d cleaned up the utensils from cutting the cake and boxed up what was left of it for Bellamy to take home.

She stepped back out into the living room, pleased to see that the party was winding down, partially because she was exhausted, partially because she wanted to finally get a minute with the birthday boy…and partially because they actually were out of ice this time.

There were only a dozen or so people left, and most of them were in pairs or trios, entertaining themselves.

Monty, Jasper, and Miller were currently sitting on the floor, playing a video game on Raven’s TV, which seemed so typical Clarke couldn’t help but snort.

Murphy was apparently on his way out, because he gave her an only slightly sarcastic high-five on his way past her, a “nice party, Griffin” tossed over his shoulder before she could even process what was going on.

She nodded after he’d already closed the door behind him.

Also typical.

She stood there for a second, looking around for Bellamy, but not finding him.

Miller, who she’d thought was intent on the screen in front of him and the controller in his hands, didn’t even look up as he told her “balcony.”

Clarke blinked in surprise, then shrugged, sliding open the balcony door and finding Bellamy on the far side of the narrow outdoor space, sitting on one of Raven’s outdoor hi-top chairs.

She slid the door closed behind her and walked toward him. “Tired of everyone already?” she teased.

He gave her a half smile. “Nah. Monty and Jasper’s gift started making the room spin. Thought I’d get some fresh air,” he said, shaking the curls out of his eyes, as he often did.

His movement jostled the crown that was somehow still on his head, and his hand flew up haphazardly to grab it. “Shit,” he said, untangling it from his curls. “I meant to give this to you ages ago. Someone could’ve told me I still had it on,” he grumbled.

She laughed, stepping closer and expecting him to hand it to her. “It looks good on you!”

He finally freed it from his hair, then grabbed her arm, pulling her closer and gently placing the crown on her head.

She practically held her breath while he did, and her lightheadedness didn’t improve in the slightest when his eyes finally met hers, their faces only a foot or so apart. “There,” he said quietly, voice low. “Knew the crown would look better on the Princess.”

Clarke forced herself to break their stare, grabbing his plastic cup off the table beside him and looking down at the electric blue concoction before taking a sip.

She’d tasted it a couple hours ago, but it was still a gut punch. She wasn’t sure how the mad scientists managed to make it taste delicious while it was in your mouth…yet still burn all the way down your esophagus.

Bellamy chuckled at the look on her face, taking his cup back and taking a sip himself. “Where’s yours?” he asked.

“I’ve been trying to behave tonight. Well, a little,” she clarified, and she couldn’t help the shiver that worked its way through her, the sudden warmth from the alcohol in her stomach contrasting sharply with the cold of the air.

Bellamy reached out, wrapping his arm around her and tugging her into his side as if it was nothing.

Clarke’s breath caught at the sudden movement…and the sudden intimacy, but she quickly snapped herself out of it, curling her body in toward his.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” he asked, his brow furrowed a little in consternation, and that’s when she realized that he was more than a little trashed.

She smiled, running her finger over the lines on his forehead, gently smoothing them out. “I did drink. I just didn’t want to get carried away tonight.”

“Why?” he asked again, still a little frustrated.

She leaned her chin against his shoulder. “I have to work tomorrow,” she reminded him. She also wanted to make sure she retained enough of her faculties to help host the party and to make sure he had a good time, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

He huffed in annoyance, and she hid her smile against his shirt. “I don’t have to go in ‘til 1, but I didn’t want to be too hungover,” she explained.

He still looked unhappy about it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and she realized that her hand had fallen to rest on his arm where it wrapped around her. She knew she should move it…but she let herself keep drawing patterns on his forearm instead.

“I wanted you to have fun,” he insisted, and he wasn’t really slurring his words, but it did seem like he had to think about them for a minute…or like it took a minute for them to make their way from his brain to his mouth.

Clarke hid another smile against his shoulder.

Bellamy only got like this…a bit boyish, even more stubborn in some weird kind of simplistic way…when he was extra drunk. Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him like this…probably sometime back when she and Octavia had been undergrads.

But she’d wanted him to have fun and let loose tonight. He’d had a terrible month, and even beyond that, it felt like he was always parenting someone.

Even when they went to bars, he usually didn’t drink that much so he could take care of everyone else. He’d driven people home, called people cabs, comforted crying girls (and once, a crying Jasper), and force-fed people water and French fries when they needed it.

Especially after everything, Clarke had wanted him to be free from responsibility, at least for one night.

His hangover would be a bitch tomorrow, but it would probably be worth it.

“I did have fun,” Clarke insisted. “Did you?”

He nodded, staring out at the pool in the courtyard, apparently having forgotten his frustration from 60 seconds ago.

Clarke moved her free hand up to his shoulder, trying not to think about how they were touching each other like they had a right to be. “You know you’re going to be miserable in the morning, right?” she teased.

“Mmm,” he hummed, shrugging unconcernedly and tipping back his cup, draining the last of whatever it was that Monty and Jasper had made. “You’re going to have to make me hangover breakfast, for once,” he said nonchalantly. “Come on, Princess. Take me home. Grandpa is fading fast over here.”

Clarke froze at the casualness in his voice, and the fact that he said it as if there wasn’t any doubt that she would.

She would be happy to, of course, but that wasn’t the issue.

The issue was that his request implied that she’d still be with him in the morning…as if they hadn’t spent the last few weeks studiously avoiding spending the night with each other.

Clarke bit her lip, somewhat in frustration, somewhat in thought…and maybe, somewhat to keep herself from blurting out anything she shouldn’t say, even if she really wanted to say it.

She disentangled herself from his grasp, moving a few feet away to lean a hip against the railing.

She’d been serious about her intentions to make this birthday amazing for him in every way she could…and even though it broke her heart…and made her stomach turn… she felt like she needed to make sure she gave him all the information about just what his birthday could entail.

She looked somewhere just over his shoulder. “You could probably get someone else to make it for you,” she almost whispered.

“Huh?” he asked. “Surely you can manage eggs, Princess. You literally just…”

She interrupted his cooking lesson. “No, I just mean…” she sighed. “There are a few girls in there that would probably be happy to uh…help you finish your birthday off right.”

He was staring at her in confusion again, and she huffed in frustration.

She didn’t want to have to spell this out for him, but she also didn’t want to cock-block him, and she was pretty sure she’d been doing some form of that all night, because it seemed like the girls she was referring to were interested…very interested, but unsure of whether or not Clarke and Bellamy were together.

“Roma! That friend of Harper’s…Bree, I think? That girl that used to work with Lincoln…Alexa? I’m sure you could…”

He was still frowning at her. “Alexa?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, her hands flailing and then slapping her thighs in frustration. “I don’t know what her name is! She’s got too much eyeliner on and she’s been standing in the corner all evening, looking like she wants to murder everyone with a spork.”

The girl in question had, however, been trailing Bellamy’s movements like some sort of cat lying in wait, and Clarke had noticed. She wasn’t sure Bellamy had though, which is why she’d mentioned it in the first place.

Bellamy thought about it for another minute or two, and Clarke held her breath, preparing herself for the inevitable, ‘Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Clarke,’ which would be code for, ‘I’m going to be busy fucking someone else.’

Her stomach roiled, but she steadfastly tried to keep her face neutral.

She wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to have fun.

And he didn’t want her…at least not like that.

She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until Bellamy started laughing, and then she quickly released it, looking at him oddly.

“Echo!” he said, rather loudly.

She tried to process the turn of events, but between the few drinks she had consumed and the stress she was currently putting herself through, she wasn’t following. “Huh?”

“Her name is Echo!” he said, apparently finding something hilarious. “Did you seriously just confuse the two Amazon robots?”

She stared at him for a moment, and she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, mostly because he was laughing so hard and, damn, but it looked good on him.

“Whatever,” she huffed, again rolling her eyes. “My point was…I’m pretty sure you could get any of them to…take you home,” she said, clearing her throat. “Hell, probably all of them. That used to be your thing, right?”

In fact, Clarke was pretty sure Roma had been one of the two girls she’d once passed coming out of Bellamy’s apartment one Saturday morning years ago.

Bellamy had stopped laughing and was again watching her oddly, as if he was too confused to process what she was even saying.

He got up, tipping his plastic cup again, and then making a noise of disappointment when he realized he’d already emptied it. “Why would I want another girl to take me home?” he asked.

Clarke’s breath hitched, and she searched his face for some kind of sign that he was trying to tell her something…but all she found was complete confusion.

He literally could not imagine taking anyone but her home with him.

She let out a grateful breath, the head to toe dread she’d been experiencing quickly leaving her body.

She knew it probably didn’t mean what she wanted it to mean, but he’d rather spend the rest of his birthday platonically with her than screwing anyone else, and she was going to take her wins where she could get them.

“Come on, Princess. I think I need to…lie down,” he finished, walking a little crookedly as he took the few steps toward her, looping an arm over her shoulders.

She led him inside, stopping to grab her backpack out of Raven’s bedroom as he said goodbye to the few people left in the living room.

She’d brought her backpack because she assumed she’d be staying somewhere overnight, but she’d figured it would be at Raven’s or even Harper’s.

This was definitely a preferable turn of events.

She walked back out, and Bellamy immediately placed his arm around her again, leading her toward the door.

She chuckled, calling out a goodbye over her shoulder.

And maybe she was getting a couple glares, but Roma and Siri could choke.

If they thought she was about to have wild birthday sex with Bellamy, she wasn’t about to correct them.

She and Bellamy made their way down to the courtyard, Bellamy leaning against her a bit more with every step.

He stumbled a little, tripping over the threshold of the elevator in his building. “Jesus,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That shit is deadly.”

Clarke chuckled, not even having to ask to know that he was referring to Monty and Jasper’s hooch. “Come on, Bell. We’re almost there.”

He hummed non-committally and turned toward her, sort of hugging her for the duration of the elevator ride.

When the doors opened on his floor, she had to clear her throat to get him to move, half dragging him to his apartment.

“Okay, birthday boy,” she said, locking the door behind them and then leading him into his bedroom. “Get ready for bed. I’ll…”

She was going to say that she’d give him some privacy to change, but he’d already unbuttoned his pants and was in the process of kicking them off.

“…okay then,” she mumbled, turning around to go back out into the living room.

She’d barely made it to the doorway when she heard a muffled grunt behind her, followed by an odd-sounding “Clarke!”

She was a little afraid to turn around, lest she find naked Bellamy standing behind her, but she didn’t really have much choice.

She spun around slowly…prepared to slap a hand over her eyes if necessary…and instead ended up bringing it to her mouth, in an unsuccessful attempt to quell the laughter that sprang to her lips.

Bellamy was standing where she’d left him, just beside his bed…wearing nothing but his blue boxers…and with his shirt somehow twisted and tangled around his arms and his head.

He was flailing a little, trying to extricate himself, but apparently not able to figure out how.

She chuckled some more…because it was hilarious…but she also felt a pang in her chest, because he was too goddamn adorable for words and she loved the shit out of him.

She walked toward him, putting a hand on his elbow so he wouldn’t accidentally hit her with his flailing. “Hold still, dumbass,” she said fondly, untangling the mess he’d made and then helping him pull it off over his head.

She tried not to think about how much she’d like to do this exact thing but in completely different circumstances…really she did.

“Okay, Graceful Grace,” she teased, turning around to again go into the living room so he could finish changing.

She didn’t even make it a step away when she felt his arm band around her middle, and suddenly, she was airborne, a squeal springing from her lips before she could stop it.

It all happened so fast, she wasn’t even sure what was happening, but apparently he’d pressed her against him, then rolled her over him and onto the bed, because she ended up lying on the middle of the bed beside him, her back still flush against his chest, his arm still banded around her waist, and her stomach still beside the bed, where her feet had last touched the floor.

She let out a large breath, trying to get her bearings. “Jesus Christ, Bellamy. Give me a heart attack.”

He grumbled, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck and tangling their legs together.

It was then that she realized that her mini dress had ridden up, the hem twisted around her hips and her lacy underwear on clear display.

She squirmed, trying to move out of his arms so she could fix it, but he grumbled again and pulled her tighter against him.

Turning her head a bit, she peeked over her shoulder and saw that he hadn’t even noticed her dress could now pass for a shirt.

In fact, he seemed half asleep.

“Bell, I am not sleeping in this dress. Let me up so I can change.”

He huffed, his arm not budging.

She rolled a little onto her back so she could see him. “And if I don’t take some of this eye make-up off, I’m going to wake up looking like Cortana,” she griped.

He finally loosened his grip enough that she could slide out of bed, but his brow furrowed, even in his half-asleep state, obviously trying to figure out what in the world she was talking about.

She grabbed a change of clothes, then headed into the bathroom, making quick work of changing and washing off her make-up.

By the time she made it back out into his bedroom, clad in his clothes, she remembered that this was no longer their norm, and she wondered if she was making a mistake…but she crawled into bed with him anyway, although she was careful to stay on her own side.

She’d assumed he was asleep, which is why she squealed again when his arm snaked out, pulling her towards him.

She ended up much like how she’d been before she’d left his bed just a few minutes ago except, this time, they were facing each other.

He pulled her close, his arm around her waist, and he tangled their legs together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

(It was.)

His eyes were even open, although his eyelids seemed heavy, and he was watching her contentedly, a half smile on his face.

She put her hand on his arm, just above his elbow, and tried not to think about the fact that he was only wearing boxers while he was tangled up in bed with her.

“Did you have a good birthday?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Might be the best one yet,” he answered.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, his answer unexpected. “Why?”

His hand tightened, gripping her waist, and he leaned forward, his lips grazing her forehead. “Cause you’re here.”

Clarke quit breathing, but he didn’t seem to notice, laying his head back down just a few inches from hers, his eyes falling closed as if he couldn’t keep them open anymore.

She replayed his words in her head over and over, trying to discern their meaning. Aside from her year of temporary insanity, she’d spent his last five or six birthdays with him…

…but this was definitely the first of his birthdays she’d spent curled up in bed with him.

She leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

She should have aimed for his cheek…in fact, she probably shouldn’t have done it at all, but she couldn’t help herself.

Honestly, she should get an award for showing this much restraint.

She let her lips linger for just a moment, taking solace in the fact that he probably wouldn’t remember her momentary lapse in judgement in the morning.

“Happy Birthday, Bell,” she whispered.

He smiled, pulling her closer. “Thanks, Princess,” he murmured.

Almost immediately, his breathing deepened and he drifted off.

Clarke, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how long she laid there awake, wondering what on Earth they were going to do.             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I 've got Echo jokes for dayyyyys.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I got some comments re: the last chapter (which is great! always send me your thoughts!) where some people were a little confused/upset about her trying to set him up with someone else. She really REALLY didn't want to, but she's sort of convinced herself that he doesn't see her in that way, and she just wants him to be happy, even if it's not with her. Which really, isn't that hallmark of true love? Plus, she was trying to figure out how to get back to being "just friends" and she thought that would be a normal "friend" thing to do. Luckily, he wanted no parts of it, (was confused as hell, frankly) so her failed attempt at wing-womaning was all for nothing anyway.
> 
> Don't worry. They figure it out soon. ;)
> 
> In the meantime, have a little fluff.
> 
> Relationship-furthering fluff, but fluff, nonetheless.

 

Clarke sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Bellamy’s shoulder.

He groaned and scooted away, all without opening his eyes.

Clarke couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face, but she reached for him again. “Bellllll. I need to leave for work soon, but I promised you hangover breakfast.”

“Uh-uh,” he grumbled, face contorted in the biggest pout she’d ever seen, but he did move closer to her again.

Without even really realizing she was doing it, she reached a hand out, gently brushing the curls off his forehead. “You need to get some water in you, at least.”

He still didn’t move, his eyes closed.

“Bell, come on. You drank a lot last night. This is going to stop being amusing and start worrying me if you don’t drink some water.”

He huffed, making his displeasure clearly known, but propped himself up slightly, accepting the bottle of water she handed him.

She watched as he downed almost half the bottle, then handed it back to her, flopping back on the bed, then immediately regretting it, if his resulting groan was anything to go by.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore, holding a hand to his head. “Why did I drink so much last night?”

“I actually don’t know that you drank that much. I think it was more…what you drank.”

Bellamy squinted his eyes shut painfully. “Fuck. I’m going to kill Monty and Jasper. Remind me never to drink anything they make, ever again.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Mmhmm,” she hummed. “So…how does 30 feel, Bell?” she teased.

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning forward until his face was buried against the side of her thigh.

She froze for a moment, looking down at his mess of curls and the bit of the side of his face that was visible, wondering what she was supposed to do with this…but he seemed pretty insistent about it, nuzzling his nose against her and putting his arm around her waist, as if to keep her there.

…as if she wanted to be anywhere else.

She gingerly laid her hand on his head, running her fingers through his curls, and he immediately sighed, letting out a contented hum.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but she definitely wasn’t ready for it to end when she caught sight of the face of her father’s watch on her wrist, noticing that her shift started in a half hour.

“Bell…” she whispered. “I have to leave soon.”

He made a noise of disagreement, holding on to her tighter.

She couldn’t help but smile, staying there a minute longer, but she eventually stood up, and he let out a noise of frustration that made her smile all the more.

“Drink your smoothie,” she insisted, grabbing it off the nightstand where she’d placed it when she’d first came into his room, and waiting while he sat up so she could hand it to him.

He accepted the glass none-too-eagerly, and she backed away from the bed. “Better finish that before I get done making your breakfast,” she reminded him.

He groaned. “Please don’t set off the smoke alarm. My head can’t take it.”

She was laughing as she walked into his kitchen, getting all the necessary things together.

It was only 15 or 20 minutes later when she was carrying a plate into his bedroom, full of food she’d cooked herself, thank you very much.

She found him slumped down in his bed, eyes closed and snoring softly, his glass three-quarters of the way empty on the table beside him.

She hated to wake him, but she also knew, from experience, that he’d thank her later.

“Bell, wake up,” she said quietly.

He sighed, turning his head away from her.

She set the plate on his nightstand, putting her hands on her hips as she stared down at him. “Bellamy Blake, I managed to cook breakfast without setting off the smoke alarm. Don’t make me go press the test button now just to get you to wake up.”

He grumbled, but opened his eyes, attempting to sit up, but not really succeeding.

Clarke grabbed his arm, helping to pull him up and then putting his pillow behind him, propping him up.

When he was mostly stable, she handed him the plate.

He looked down at it a little dubiously, and she couldn’t really blame him.

After all…she’d cooked it.

And yeah, the bacon was a little… _crispy_ …but the eggs looked passable enough.

And she hadn’t set off the smoke alarm, even with all the bacon grease, so really, it was a win-win situation.

“I don’t need a review, Geoffrey Zakarian. Just eat it.”

He scooped a bit of egg on his fork, hesitantly bringing it to his mouth. “That’s…actually not bad,”

She felt an irrational pride at that.

He managed to get a few more bites down before he stopped to take another long drink of water. “What did you put in the smoothie? It’s different,” he commented, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Honey,” she replied. “Should get your blood sugar back up quicker. Make you feel human again sooner.”

He hummed in response, breaking the blackened ends off a piece of bacon and eating the middle, which was…less black.

She watched him for a minute, making sure he seemed halfway okay before she left.

“I have to get going,” she reminded him. “You going to be okay?”

He nodded, concentrating on the eggs on the plate in front of him.

She couldn’t help it, really she couldn’t, when she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “Happy second day of your 30’s, Bell. Try not to throw up, k?”

“Mm,” he murmured, going back to his food.

She chuckled, grabbing her stuff and leaving his apartment after putting another bottle of water on his nightstand.

It wasn’t until she was walking through the parking garage at the hospital a few minutes later that her phone started ringing.

She glanced at it, seeing Bellamy’s picture before pressing ‘accept.’

“Did you throw up?” she teased by way of greeting.

“No,” he huffed, sounding a bit more like himself.

She chuckled. “What’s up? Miss me already?” she teased without thinking, then immediately froze in the stairwell, wishing she could take it back.

Bellamy, however, didn’t even seem to notice, immediately answering, “Always.”

Clarke was fairly sure she stopped breathing for a second, and she felt the sudden insane urge to sit down on the step she was currently frozen on.

Luckily, Bellamy seemed to remember why he’d called her. “You got me tickets to the charity game,” he said, which wasn’t really a question, but she knew what he wanted to ask anyway.

“I did. And no, I didn’t pay an ungodly amount for them.”

“Clarke.”

She chuckled, finally resuming her trip down the stairs. “My hospital is one of the recipients of the charity. Our children’s ward is getting new equipment with some of the funds, and our board helped plan this entire thing. Our senior attendings all got two free tickets each. I asked Kane for his.”

She’d reached her floor, but she stayed in the stairwell, waiting to finish her conversation with Bellamy before she walked inside.

“And he…just gave them to you?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I was prepared to offer like…indentured servitude for the next six months, but he seemed surprisingly eager to hand them over.”

“…why?”

Clarke leaned up against the wall, sighing. “Honestly, I think he’s trying to get on my good side. I think…he might be dating my mother? Or he wants to, anyway.”

“… _what?_ ”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Remember that consult she went to in Chicago over Thanksgiving? Turns out Kane got called in to consult too. I guess they spent Thanksgiving together at the hotel buffet and now they’re…” she sighed again. “I don’t know.”

“Clarke, I…” she could hear his hesitance over the phone. “Are you okay?”

She thought about it for a minute. “Yeah. I mean…it’s weird, and I do feel a little like I’m being punched in the stomach when I first think about it but…she deserves to be happy, right? It’s been a long time since my dad. She’s not doing anything wrong. And Kane’s a good enough guy, I guess. It’s just…weird,” she repeated.

“Weird to see your mom dating someone or weird that it’s your boss?”

She huffed a laugh. “Both?”

The line was silent for a minute as they both processed, but then something seemed to occur to Bellamy.

“Were we arguing about something last night?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Uhh…no?”

“I swear I remember you screaming ‘Siri’ at me, which makes no fucking sense whatsoever.”

Clarke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, and she didn’t even care when it bounced off the walls in the stairwell, echoing loudly.

The word ‘echo’ passing through her brain then sent her into a fit of giggles that had tears running down her face.

“Clarke, what the hell?” Bellamy griped, clearly not happy about being left out of the joke. “I’m going to kill those nerds.”

She wiped the tears off her cheeks, still chuckling as she promised, “I’ll tell you later.” She heard him grumbling under his breath, but she ignored it. “Go back to sleep, Bell. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

She expected him to just say ‘bye,’ so she already had her hand on the door handle, but paused when he didn’t hang up as quickly as she’d expected.

“Clarke?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for…everything.”

She hesitated. “Everything?”

“The tickets, the party…staying with me…the breakfast. Everything.”

She wondered how many odd looks she’d get when she walked into the hospital with a smile this big on her face. “Anytime,” she said, and it was practically a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Well, not the party. I think you’re gonna have to wait a year for the next one of those.”

“I can do that. And I already know what gift I want for my 31st.”

“Oh?”

“Promise me you won’t let me drink anything Monty and Jasper bring.”

Clarke laughed, finally pulling open the door. “Deal.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In case you didn't notice, I just updated the chapter count. There will be 38 total. (ahhhhh, I can't believe I'm almost done with this monster lmao)

Clarke plodded her way down Bellamy’s hallway, eyes bleary and fighting to stay open as she got closer and closer to his doorway, although it felt like a herculean effort.

It had been a couple days since his birthday party, and they’d both been too busy with work to hang out, but they had been communicating regularly via text.

Clarke had been scheduled to work the 6 pm to 6 am shift last night, and around 5 am, she’d been exhausted and had seriously contemplated how weird it would be if she let herself into Bellamy’s apartment and crawled into bed with him.

The rewards of falling into a nice, warm bed with the man she loved (who happened to live five minutes away) were definitely outweighing the risks, at least in her mind.

That pro/con spreadsheet had immediately gone by the wayside when they’d been alerted to multiple incoming ambulances and dozens of injuries, some of them serious.

There had been a major wreck on the interstate; a drunk driver, still up from the night before, had gotten on the interstate going the wrong way, and he’d run straight into the early-morning commuters. What resulted was a huge pile up, two dead at the scene, at least a dozen seriously injured, and dozens more that were coming in with minor injuries that still needed to be tended to.

Everyone had immediately gone into triage mode in the ER, surgeries had been started immediately on the patients in the most dire of situations, and any thought of Clarke clocking out had disappeared.

In fact, most of the staff had to stay, even if they were at the end of their shifts, because most of the doctors and nurses that were supposed to relieve them were stuck in traffic behind the wreck, and emergency personnel had informed them that it would be _hours_ before they’d be able to get the interstate cleared up and back open.

Clarke had helped with triage, assisted on a couple surgeries, and then spent the rest of her time setting broken bones, removing gravel and glass, and stitching people up.

She’d worked a full 24 hours, and she was exhausted, which is how she found herself here, at Bellamy’s, without even really thinking about it.

She hadn’t even texted first, but she didn’t think he’d mind.

Finally reaching his door, she knocked a few times, leaning up against the wall as she waited for him to answer.

He did, just a moment later, his eyes immediately widening at the sight of her, half-conscious and melting into the wall outside his door.

“Clarke! What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching a hand out to steady her.

“Can I sleep?” she asked. She was fairly sure there should be more words in that sentence, but she was too tired to figure it out at the moment.

He studied her for a moment, and when she straightened from the wall, and swayed a little, he immediately reached for her, one arm going under her knees and the other around her back, picking her up as if it was nothing.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he was being ridiculous and he should put her down…but she instead gave into the comfort his warmth offered and his strength, which allowed her to finally relax.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her head into his chest and her eyes almost immediately shut of their own volition.

He carried her into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. “Hey, Clarke, talk to me. Are you sick? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

She shook her head against his shoulder. “Just left there. I just need to sleep. Can I sleep here?”

“Yeah. Of course,” he insisted, carrying her across his living room.

“You can put me down. I can walk,” she murmured against his chest, although, if anything, she tightened her arms around his neck.

She could feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. “Sure, Princess,” he agreed, even as he made no move to let her go.

He carried her into his bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. “Let me get you clothes,” he said, quickly going to his dresser and grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then handing them to her. “You okay?” he asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

She took the clothes from him, nodding, and he quickly walked out, pulling the door shut behind him.

She kicked her tennis shoes off, watching in some sort of trance as they flopped halfway across the room.

It was another minute or two before she managed to snap out of it enough to take her clothes off, and by the time she’d removed her scrubs and her socks and then put Bellamy’s oversized t-shirt on, she decided she didn’t have the energy left that would be required to put on the sweatpants, so she dropped them onto her pile of clothes on the floor and slid into bed.

She took a moment to be grateful that she’d taken a two-minute shower before she’d left the hospital, because the feeling of sliding into crisp, clean sheets, especially with bare legs, was a comfort that felt especially wonderful right now, and she would’ve hated to ruin that effect by smelling like she’d spent 24 hours in a hospital.

She pulled the covers over her and laid down near the middle of the bed, almost expecting sleep to claim her before her head could even properly hit the pillow.

To her surprise, it didn’t, and a couple minutes later, there was a trio of brisk knocks on the door.

“Come in,” she answered.

He opened the door, peeking around it and smiling when he saw she’d indeed managed to get herself into bed without keeling over.

He walked to the foot of the bed, still looking a bit worried. “What happened?”

She nodded to the spot beside her. “C’mere?”

He looked slightly taken aback for a second, but he quickly hid it, shaking his head once and then heading toward her.

“The pile up happened just before my shift ended. I had to work a double, and I’ve been up for over 30 hours. I feel like I’m going to pass out,” she told him as he got into bed behind her and she immediately scooted back and grabbed his arm, pulling it around her so they were effectively spooning.

“Jesus, Clarke. You didn’t drive, did you? I would have picked you up.”

She shook her head into the pillow. “Bryan dropped me off. He only worked one shift.”

He pulled her even further into his body. “Get some sleep,” he murmured into her hair.

She nodded, burrowing further into the pillow and more than ready to let sleep claim her.

The problem was…it didn’t.

She was so exhausted, she felt on the verge of tears, and also on the verge of nausea, but no matter how much she tried to relax…no matter how much she tried to will herself to sleep…she couldn’t, even with Bellamy’s warm, comforting presence at her back.

She must have sighed or tensed or something, because Bellamy raised his head a little, looking over her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Clarke?”

She flopped onto her back, looking up at him. “I’m so goddamn exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep.”

He was watching her worriedly again and it was beyond endearing. “Do you need some water? Food?”

She shook her head. Even the thought of food made her stomach turn even more. “No, definitely sleep first. I think it might be adrenaline let down.”

“Hmm?” he asked, brushing a curl behind her ear, his hand lingering.

She tried to focus on his question, not his hand. “Too much stress…and too much caffeine…all at once. My adrenaline probably kicked in to keep me going, but now that the crisis is over, the adrenaline is gone and my body is exhausted, but my brain hasn’t quite caught up.”

He was still propped up on one elbow, absentmindedly running one of her curls through his fingers. “You know…” he said, voice slightly hesitant. “We did figure out a way to deal with stress.”

She wasn’t sure if it was her lack of sleep or the fact that he was practically leaning over her in bed, but her brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment.

He must have sensed her confusion, because he continued, although it was with even more hesitancy. “It…seemed to work pretty well last time,” he said, and then his eyes flitted down to her lips for just a split second, almost as if he’d tried to stop them.

It was only a split second, but that was all Clarke needed for everything to fall into place.

She wasn’t really sure how she was supposed to say, ‘Yes, please, dear God, kiss me. You know, platonically and for science’s sake,’ so she just nodded.

He looked at her for a moment, a bit of anxiety obvious on his face, but then he leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to her cheek.

He lingered there for a moment, probably unsure if he should continue or not…until she wrapped her arms around his neck.

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed to press multiple kisses to her cheek, getting closer to her lips each time.

She finally ended up turning her head, her mouth meeting his, and she was pretty sure they both sighed into it.

She wasn’t sure how much of it was her exhaustion, but it almost felt like a damn spiritual experience, being able to kiss him again, and she felt her mind immediately go blank, consumed by the feel and the smell and the taste of him, and the utter contentment that came from being with him like this again.

It was soft, gentle, their lips sliding together smoothly as they drank each other in.

Her hands slid down to his shoulders, reveling in the strength of his upper arms as she met him kiss for kiss, and one of his hands was cupping her cheek, thumb caressing it tenderly as he gave her kisses that were so sweet, she kind of wanted to cry.

In all honestly, she tried to force herself to stay awake as long as possible so she could enjoy it, but the exhaustion finally started overtaking her, and he must have realized it whenever she became less responsive.

He pulled away. “Go to sleep, Princess.”

She huffed, and he chuckled and kissed her jaw.

“Will you stay?” she asked, forcing her eyes open a few centimeters.

He smiled, nodding and leaning forward to press one…two quick kisses to her lips. “I’ll be right here,” he promised.

She nodded, already turning toward him.

She burrowed her body into his, this time chest to chest, and this time, sleep claimed her in mere seconds.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I contemplated not mentioning this, but decided I needed to. I received what was probably my first really rude comment recently, and let me tell you...it bothered the shit out of me. Like it's not nerve-wracking enough to put myself out there by posting stuff I write, then I also have to worry about people posting comments they really don't need to be posting. 
> 
> And that's the thing. You're free to stop reading at any time. If you don't like what I've written or where I'm taking the story, then absolutely, find something more to your liking. But you know what you don't need to do? Tell an author how they need to change a story to fit your needs. If you think your idea is better...then by all means...add to the Bellarke fic section yourself. (FYI: This was NOT directed at anyone who good-naturedly yells at me about the slow-burn. I LOVE those comments. Angst is supposed to make you angry, right? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ )
> 
> So, after the longest Author's Note ever (sorry, y'all)...here it is. THE chapter.
> 
> Let me just go ahead and say...this chapter probably deserves more of an E rating, but I didn't want to change the rating for the whole fic based on the last two chapters. Just a bit of a heads up.

Clarke woke up reluctantly, not nearly rested enough, but knowing that something had roused her.

It only took her a minute to realize what it was; Bellamy was no longer lying next to her, and if the warmth of the sheets beside her was any indication, he’d just gotten up a few minutes ago.

She sat up in bed, blinking blearily as she looked around, trying to get her bearings. The room was dark, since it was clearly pitch-black outside, which had to mean she’d gotten at least a few hours of sleep.

The light was on in the living room, and she could just make out Bellamy’s voice, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying.

She waited a few minutes after he quit talking to call out, “Bellamy?”

In just a few seconds, he appeared in the doorway. “Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said contritely.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. Were you on the phone?”

He nodded, walking into the room to stand beside the bed. “I wanted to order Panda Hut before they closed so you’d have something to eat whenever you woke up.”

She tilted her head, a little overcome by how much he cared, although she really shouldn’t be at this point.

They were just watching each other, until he finally slid a hand gently into the hair just behind her ear. “Go back to sleep, Clarke.”

She bit her lip, leaning into his hand as she just stared at him, her mind whirling with possibility.

She wasn’t sure what, but something seemed to have shifted between them.

She remembered how sweetly he’d kissed her before she’d fallen asleep, and now he was looking at her so softly, and with so much adoration, she just couldn’t do it anymore.

She _loved_ him.

She _wanted_ him.

And she was done pretending she didn’t.

She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, putting her hand over his. “Bellamy…” she said quietly. “Come back to bed.”

He didn’t really look surprised by her words, but he also didn’t make any moves to comply with her suggestion.

That is, until she got up on her knees, moving closer to him, nodding at the unspoken question in his eyes.

He leaned down at the same time she rose up, and then their lips were meeting, softly at first, as if making sure this was what they both wanted, then a bit more frantically as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he crushed her torso against his.

Before she knew it, she was moving backward, and he forward, and then they were falling down onto the bed together, their bodies still pressed tightly against each other.

He caught himself on his hands, his upper body stopping just a few inches above hers, and they just stared at each other for a long moment, soaking in the moment, both seemingly awed that this was about to happen.

Without even really realizing she was doing it, her hands started moving in his hair, just sliding through the curls at the base of his neck, and suddenly they were kissing again, their tongues tangling as they held onto each other for dear life.

And it was somehow so _so_ different from the other times they’d kissed.

All those other times, the kissing had felt like the main event.

Now, it felt like the precursor to something else…something even more earth-shattering.

His hand slid down her side, moving to grasp her hip when he stopped short, pulling back a fraction of an inch to look at her. “Are you…not wearing pants?” he practically croaked.

She couldn’t help the wicked grin that came to her face, her gaze playful as she slowly shook her head.

He let out a noise that seemed to be part growl, his grip on her hip tightening almost painfully as his lips crashed into hers.

And then they were a flurry of activity, his hand skimming her side and the curve of her hip, her hands grasping at and caressing his shoulders and the back of his neck, their hips moving together rhythmically as if they just couldn’t stop themselves.

She lost track of everything but his body over hers, the heat between them too delicious to ignore as the desire in her built and built.

Slowly, almost tentatively, his hand slid up her stomach, pausing a moment before he _oh-so-gently_ brushed his thumb along the underside of her breast.

She couldn’t resist the low whine that escaped her, but she retaliated by nipping his lower lip sharply, then soothing it with her tongue.

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, because he pressed his body into the cradle of her hips even more firmly as his hand moved up, his thumb just skimming over her nipple.

Just as Clarke began to shift, ready to wrap her legs around his waist…his phone rang from in his pocket.

It took them a minute to even hear it, and once they did, they both froze, lips still pressed firmly against each other’s.

He moved away, and she couldn’t help but chase his lips, although it was for naught as he flopped on his back beside her.

Everything seemed to stand still as she laid there, breath practically frozen as she heard him answer his phone and hang up a short minute later.

He turned to look at her, gaze a bit sheepish. “The delivery guy’s downstairs.”

She nodded, not really capable of much else at the moment.

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

She just sighed, unhappy about being interrupted in the first place.

He leaned back toward her, and she was expecting another peck, which was why she was a little shocked when he swept his tongue into her mouth, his kiss full of hunger and passion and…promise.

“ _Please_ don’t go anywhere _,_ ” he repeated, this time getting out of bed and practically jogging toward the door.

She watched him until he disappeared, then flopped back on the bed, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling in frustration.

A chill that seemed to be both physical and mental started coming over her, the absence of the warmth of his body on top of hers sending a bit of a shockwave through her.

It only took a few minutes for her doubts to return to her one by one until they finally hit her full force.

Without him there, kissing her senseless, she suddenly remembered all the reasons she’d talked herself out of having sex with him the first 900 times it had crossed her mind.

Sex wasn’t enough…not when she felt about him the way she did.

She knew she was flip-flopping faster than your average politician and she had no idea how she was going to explain her abrupt change of mind to Bellamy, but some self-preservation instinct was telling her she needed to leave. _Now_.

If she stayed, she knew exactly what would happen, and she could no longer convince herself that maybe he just hadn’t admitted his feelings yet or that maybe he’d grow to see her as more than a friend someday.

She’d stayed with him through his mother’s funeral.

She’d _kissed_ him more times than she could count, in a way no one in their right mind would believe was platonic.

They’d been about 30 seconds away from the point of no return just a few minutes ago.

And he still hadn’t said anything.

Tears came to her eyes as she admitted that he obviously never would.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, but she needed to distance herself from him.

Some of the remains of her prior exhaustion were lingering, combining with her thoughts of leaving Bellamy again, along with the unreleased sexual tension in her body, and it all produced a sense of panic that she couldn’t really control.   

She quickly got out of bed, her hands shaking as she slipped her scrub bottoms back on and pulled on her tennis shoes without bothering to find her socks.

She made her way quickly and clumsily to the living room, grabbing her bag off the floor, where she’d dropped it on her way in.

She was halfway to the door when she remembered she didn’t have her car, and it made tears come to her eyes even faster, because the thought of being trapped here, within arm’s reach of everything she wanted, and yet so far away from it, made her feel even more on edge.

Some half-formed plan to go to Raven’s was working in her mind, but she wasn’t sure if that would put enough distance between them.

She was reaching for the doorknob, her vision blurred by tears as she contemplated calling someone to come get her…when the door opened on its own, Bellamy barely visible behind a large paper bag as he came in, pulling the door shut behind him.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked, obviously having noticed her standing there, but not getting a clear view of her face, if his fairly normal and unconcerned tone was anything to go by.

“I…need to go,” she mumbled shakily, trying to get to the door, but unwilling to get any closer to him.

He shifted the bag and his wallet, moving everything to his side so he could get a better look at her. “Why?” he asked, his expression immediately changing when he got a look at her. “Clarke, what’s wrong?? Did something happen after I left?”

She angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks. “No. I just need to leave,” she answered, gesturing toward the door.

He moved just a few steps, setting the bag on the counter, and Clarke took the opportunity to try to scoot past him to make her escape.

Just before she reached the door, his hand darted out to grab her arm, probably out of instinct more than anything, and she recoiled like she’d been burned, immediately stepping back toward the opposite wall.

He immediately dropped his hand, looking horrified. “Clarke, I didn’t…”

She shook her head, again wiping tears away as she tried to decide if she was more angry or upset.

Whichever was the paramount emotion, she didn’t want him to think he’d physically hurt her. His touch had been gentle, like it always was with her.

The problem was, she didn’t trust herself not to fall into his bed at the slightest brush of his fingertips, which is why she’d overreacted.

“Bellamy, I need to go,” she repeated, as if that was all she was capable of communicating at the moment. Tears fell down her cheeks as she wondered if this was the last time he’d ever look at her with anything even resembling adoration or affection in his eyes. “Please…just let me go,” she begged, and he finally seemed to realize that she didn’t mean it in just the immediate sense.

At first, his hand had been twitching at his side, probably aching to reach for her, to comfort her as he always did, but as her meaning seemed to sink in, his face hardened. “Running away again, Princess?” he asked, and the nickname didn’t sound all that fond anymore. “I thought you were done with that.”

She huffed, anger definitely winning out for the moment. “There’s a difference between running away and… _self-preservation!_ ” she practically screamed at him.

A flicker of uncertainty passed over his face before his anger returned, seemingly doubled in force. “Self-preservation?!” he thundered. “Are you seriously trying to say I…?” he trailed off, seemingly unable to finish the sentence. “You wanted me just as badly as I wanted you!” he shouted, his hand gesturing toward the bedroom.

Oh, God. Why was everything coming out wrong?

“Of course I wanted you!” she screamed back. “I _still_ want you!”

“Then what the hell is wrong?!” he asked in exasperation, his hands flinging out at his sides.

“You just want a fuck buddy, and I can’t do that!” she finally admitted, seemingly unable to control her volume now that she’d started.

His brow furrowed, confusion mixing with the anger on his face. “When have I ever said that’s what I want?!”

She knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t exactly stop herself. “Then what do you want?!”

Once the question was out there, they both paused, just watching each other. The air was heavy with tension and emotion and…something else.

Maybe it was desperation.

Maybe it was hope.

The sound of both of them breathing heavily, winded from their screaming match and their frustration, echoed throughout the room as they stood there, on the precipice of…something.

One side of the cliff led to something wonderful and the other side led to something terrible, and neither of them were sure which way they were going to topple.

Bellamy finally broke the silence, exhaling loudly before a sort of determination came over his face. It was a look she’d never quite seen on him before; it was a determination that said ‘I’m done fighting.’

His eyes softened as he looked at her. “You,” he said quietly, but his voice was full of conviction. “I want all of you.”

Clarke felt as if the breath had been physically knocked out of her, and she was a little afraid to even blink, lest she find out she was imagining the whole thing. “You want…me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, she realized she wasn’t asking the right question. “You want to…be with me?”

He nodded slowly, his face full of apprehension and something else she was afraid to name.

“But you…” she gestured toward the bedroom. “You never said anything! I thought you just wanted…something physical.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were just…feeling sorry for me,” he said, glancing away from her for the first time. “I thought it was just…pity. I kept telling myself I should stop it, but…I couldn’t. I wanted you too badly.”

He stepped closer to her without even seeming to realize it, and she swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to launch herself into his arms.

She shook her head. “Bellamy…no. It was never pity. I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to be… _with_ you.”

Another step.

“Why didn’t _you_ say anything?” he asked.

“I didn’t know how you felt!” she answered a little pointedly. “And I didn’t want to spring all that on you while you were already dealing with so much.”

Another step, and he was standing just inches from her, their gazes seemingly permanently attached as their bodies gravitated toward each other.

He reached for her, his hands settling almost tentatively on her waist.

She wanted nothing more than to close the last of the remaining distance between them, but she couldn’t…not when what they wanted could still be so different.

She put her hands on his chest; not pushing him away, but not allowing him to get any closer either. “Bell…wait,” she breathed, fighting every instinct in her body and trying to listen to her brain.

He just raised his eyebrows in question, his face seemingly unconcerned about whatever she was going to say to him, sure that nothing could change what was about to happen between them.

Well, that made one of them.

She took a deep breath before saying, all in a bit of a rush, “I hate sounding like such a… _girl_ , but… I know you don’t do relationships. And I don’t need a…label or whatever, but I…” she pursed her lips, looking at the collar of his shirt as she felt heat staining her cheeks. “I at least need to know we’re exclusive. I need to know we’re…” she trailed off, not sure how she was going to finish that sentence.

‘ _…something.’_

_‘…going somewhere.’_

She knew that, aside from his short attempt with Gina, he’d never even tried being in a relationship. The thought of a serious long-term commitment couldn’t be easy for a guy like him, and she wasn’t going to pressure him into saying things he wasn’t ready to or committing to things he wasn’t ready for.

As long as she knew he was serious about her…and as long as she knew he wasn’t sleeping around, she could wait for the rest.

She’d wait as long as it took for him.

She finally got up the courage to meet his gaze again, and he was staring at her with an incredulous smile on his face, seemingly awed by her, that look she was afraid to categorize on his face even more prominently now.

He moved one of his hands up to gently cup her cheek, and she couldn’t help but sigh and lean into it, a little of the tension flowing out of her at his soft touch.

“Clarke,” he said quietly, shaking his head slowly, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “I don’t do relationships because I’ve never wanted a relationship with anyone but you.”

Oh.

He moved further into her personal space, and she happily let him, in a bit of a daze as she leaned back against the wall for support, since her legs currently seemed unable to hold her up on their own.

His face was just a few inches from hers, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking between his eyes and his mouth, although he seemed to be having the same problem.

“Princess…” he said, voice low and full of a tenderness she didn’t think she’d ever quite heard from him before. “I’ve been in love with you since you were 18 years old. All I ever wanted was you.”

_Oh._

She let his words wash over her, sinking in slowly, as if she was afraid to believe he’d really said them, and then she was hit with a wave of relief…of _joy_ …so strong, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

She started to do both, and then she kissed him for all she was worth.

She wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but she didn’t pull away until her lungs demanded it, and even then, he _still_ chased her lips with his.

She smiled, letting her head rest against the wall and unclenching her hands from where they’d been fisted in his shirt and smoothing them up his chest, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck as she stared up at him.

There were so many questions about his confession swirling around in her head, but they could wait.

For now…

“Bellamy…”

“Mmm?” he hummed, still staring at her with that damn look on his face—the one she could finally let herself admit was love.

“I love you too,” she said, voice shaking a little. She shook her head as she tried to find words to convey the magnitude of that love, but she was a little short on both time and coherence at the moment, so she went with the first thing that came to mind. “I love you so much, it’s stupid.”

Luckily, he seemed to understand, chuckling as he pressed his lips to hers, and then it was like they’d crossed the point of no return, clearly done with conversation for the time being as they held on to each other for dear life, trying to get closer and closer, even after it was physically impossible.

This kiss felt different than all their others, because there was nothing up for interpretation.

When she sighed and melted into him, he knew it didn’t just mean ‘I like kissing you.’ It meant ‘You make me happy.’

When he nudged her nose with his and then nibbled on her lower lip, she knew it didn’t just mean ‘I feel like being playful.’ It meant ‘I love making you smile.’

When they both groaned, low in their throat, tongues tangling as they pulled each other closer and closer, they both knew it didn’t just mean ‘I want you’ or ‘I need you.’ It meant ‘I love you.’

Within just a few minutes, Clarke found herself trapped fully against the wall. She wasn’t sure how or when, but one of her legs had hooked itself over Bellamy’s hip, and they were grinding into each other, all thoughts of propriety and ‘platonicness’ _finally_ dispensed with, _thank God_.

His hand found its way underneath her shirt (technically, _his_ shirt) and he trailed light, tender touches over her stomach, which seemed to be quivering, before slowly sliding his hand under her sports bra.

Clarke spared a second of thought for her disappointment that the first time he was going to see her in her underwear (at least in a sexual context), it was going to be in the practical cotton ones she wore under her scrubs instead of the sexier ones she had buried in a drawer at home, but she quickly promised herself that he’d eventually see her in _all_ of her underwear…and out of it…and then his calloused thumb brushed across her nipple and she lost all train of thought, moaning into his mouth and rolling her hips even more firmly against his, practically whimpering at the friction between his hardening length and her overly sensitive core.

He pressed gentle, nibbling kisses down her jaw, then latched onto her neck, sucking and biting and then licking at the sensitive spot just below her ear as his fingers played with her nipple, pinching and then rolling it between his work-roughened digits, and her eyes practically rolled back in her head.

Unable to wait any longer for the feeling of his bare skin against hers, she moved her hands down, grasping clumsily at the bottom hem of his shirt, trying to lift it up.

It was then that he froze, his mouth going still against her neck and his hand dropping back down to rest gently on her stomach.

He exhaled harshly, then let his forehead flop down against her shoulder.

She froze as well, eyes wide as she waited for him to say something… _do_ something.

…but he didn’t.

She felt practically on the verge of tears, because _what now?!_

“Bell?” she asked uncertainly.

He mumbled something unintelligible against her shoulder, sounding frustrated.

She slid her hands into his curls, cupping the back of his head and gently pulling him up so she could see his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“We should…slow down,” he answered, voice a little shaky.

She had an immediate negative reaction to that suggestion, her brow scrunching and the corners of her mouth turning down. “What? Why?!”

“We don’t have to do this…right now.”

_‘But I want to_ ,’ she thought, but all that escaped her was a frustrated huff.

“I’m serious about you, Clarke. I’m serious about being good to you…being the kind of guy you deserve. We should…go out on a date,” he said, a bit sheepishly, but his gaze was insistent on hers. “I want to do this right.”

The tension that had started accumulating in her body was immediately replaced by a warmth that was pure love, pure gratitude for the man standing in front of her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in close and hugging him as tightly as she could.

He was still against her for a moment, and then his hands slid to her back, one still under her shirt, both of them holding her tightly.

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she mumbled quietly against his neck.

“What?” he asked, tone still a bit sheepish.

“I love you,” she said, kissing his neck. “I love you so much. And I _love_ how much you love me,” she admitted, pressing her lips to the strong column of his neck over and over. “But if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to strangle you.”

He huffed a laugh into her hair, pulling back to look at her. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, Clarke!”

She smiled up at him, her eyes soft even as she knew she had to be exuding lust at the same time. “I know you are.”

“I want you to know how serious I am about this…about you. I want you to know how much I love you,” he told her quietly, but with such intensity, it made her eyes sting. “I’ve waited this long to be with you…I can wait a little longer.”

Yeah, there was definitely a tear or two in her eye.

The guy who’d only ever cared about sex…the guy who was known for one night stands, threesomes, and fuck buddies…wanted to… _court her_?

She cupped his face in her hands, staring up at him with incredulity. “Bellamy…I’ve never doubted how much you love me. Never. I may not have been sure… _in what way_ …you loved me…but I’ve never doubted how much you care about me. If you say you’re serious about being with me, I believe you.”

His eyes were dark with desire, and he was staring down at her with a bit of uncertainty, as if he _wanted_ to give in, but was still holding himself back.

She let her hands slide down, caressing the dips between his neck and his shoulders before they slid slowly over his chest.

She stepped closer, tilting her head so she could nibble on the underside of his ridiculously chiseled jaw as her hands slid down to his stomach, fingernails lightly scratching over the smooth muscles of his abdomen.

He stuttered a bit, his hands shaking a little against her back, and she couldn’t help but grin against his skin.

She placed warm, open-mouthed kisses along his neck. “We’ve gone on hundreds of dates, Bell. Probably thousands. I know everything about you. I _love_ everything about you. I don’t need anything else. I just need you,” she told him. “You’re not the only one who’s waited a long time for this,” she finished, nipping gently at his earlobe and grinning at his resulting hiss.

She leaned back just a few inches, letting her head rest against the wall again as she looked up at him, watching his internal struggle play out clearly on his face.

She could see the love, the respect, the attempt to be chivalrous…and she could see the pure lust that he was trying _so_ hard to keep in check.

He moved one of his hands up to gently cup her cheek, staring down at her with so much concern, it was kind of overwhelming. “Are you sure?” he asked gently.

She smiled, letting all the love and the desire she felt for him shine through clearly. “I am so _so_ sure,” she answered, then slid her hands a few inches lower, hooking her fingertips in the elastic waistband of his pants and pulling his hips against hers. She looked up at him a bit coyly. “Bellamy…make love to me.”

She’d never uttered those words before in her life, and she’d frankly always found that particular euphemism for sex to be a little silly, but with him…that’s exactly what she imagined sex would be like. Hell, she couldn’t even kiss him without pouring her entire heart into it.

Bellamy Blake, king of all things casual sex and professional scoffer at rom-coms and Harlequin-esque fairy tales, must have agreed with her assessment, because he didn’t even bat an eyelash or crack a smile.

He just groaned, low in his throat, and crashed his lips into hers.

And then it seemed like his hands were everywhere, which was perfect, because that was exactly where she wanted them.

Before she knew it, both of their shirts were laying somewhere on the kitchen floor and her sports bra was rolled up, hooked under her armpits, because that was all the further Bellamy had gotten it before he’d dropped his mouth to her breasts, seemingly unable to stop himself.

Clarke would have taken care of removing it herself, but she was _gone_ after the first touch of his lips on the swell of her breast.

He’d kissed, and nibbled, and sucked an impressive bruise or two onto her tender skin, which was bad enough, but then he’d taken her nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, and all she could do was sink her fingers into his curls, holding his head against her as she let the pleasure consume her.

His mouth was on one breast, one of his hands was busy with her other breast, and he somehow managed to skim his other hand down her stomach, slowly slipping it into her pants, even if the angle was a bit awkward.

She had the remarkably odd thought that he must be great at that whole ‘rub your stomach and pat your head at the same time’ game, but then his hand slid into her underwear, fingers sliding into her folds and through the copious wetness that had gathered there, and all she could do was bite her lip and cling tighter to his curls, thoughts of everything except getting him inside her suddenly very unimportant.

She clung to his hair, and then his shoulders, her hands getting more and more desperate as he kept working his fingers against her in tight circles, sending her further and further into the white heat threatening to envelope her.

Then, he slowly kissed his way up her chest, spending an inordinate amount of time nipping at her clavicle before he finally returned to her neck, then made his way back to her mouth.

She kissed him eagerly, feeling like it had been hours since his lips had been on hers instead of mere seconds, and she had just relaxed into the kiss a bit when he suddenly moved his fingers, easily sliding two of them inside her.

She stuttered a bit against him, unable to stop the quick gasp of air she inhaled as the heat building in her core spiked even higher.

She could feel herself beginning to tremble from the inside out, and she knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she came undone.

It made no sense, because what was happening was _fucking fantastic_ , but she had waited _so goddamn long_ to be with him, she didn’t really want the first orgasm he gave her to be like this…with her bra rolled up under her arms, his hand pushed haphazardly down her pants, and him still mostly dressed.

Honestly, she’d take this any day of the week and twice on Sundays any other time because it was hot as _hell_ , but this first time, she wanted both of them naked, skin on skin, as close as they could possibly get.

She pulled away reluctantly and slid a hand down to circle his wrist, stalling his movements. “Bell…wait.”

He looked down at her dazedly, his eyes so dark they looked black.

She _almost_ gave in, but somehow managed to keep her wits about her long enough to tell him, “Clothes off. _Now_.”

They separated just a few inches, quickly taking care of their own clothes, their movements made frantic by the thought of what would come as soon as they were finished.

Of course, Bellamy had less to take off, so he was standing naked in front of her by the time she was down to just her panties.

She glanced up, and found him staring down at her with around 12 different emotions on his face. The predominant one was, of course, lust, and it was infused with a hunger that seemed so intense, so _feral_ , it might have scared her…had she not been feeling the exact same way.

But along with the passion that was obvious…there were other, softer, more surprising things visible. Love. A bit of incredulity. And what looked like…reverence.

His eyes were sliding slowly over her from head to toe, and his gaze was so hot, so heavy, it felt like an actual physical caress.

But the way he looked at her…the way he took her in…he wasn’t just telling her that she looked sexy, or that he was a fan of her generous breasts, or that he wanted to get his hands back on her.

He was telling her that he _worshipped_ her.

He swallowed audibly, then gently rested his hands on her hips, his fingers just skimming the edges of her cotton underwear. “Do I at least get to take these off?” he asked, voice rough.

She couldn’t help the sultry smile that crossed her face, and she held his gaze for just a moment, allowing the tension to build up deliciously before she nodded slowly.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft, surprisingly chaste, kiss to her lips before kissing his way down her neck.

His just allowed his hands to gently skim her sides as he oh-so-slowly kissed his way down her body, going in-between her breasts, then skipping over the small indent of her belly button, then stopping just as he reached the elastic band of her underwear.

He paused there, kneeling, his hands on her hips and his lips resting against her lower stomach.

She was actually holding her breath, waiting for whatever was going to come next.

He stayed there, immobile, for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds.

When he finally tilted his head up, his gaze catching hers, she felt like she was ready to spontaneously combust.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was again asking for permission, even though she’d made her desires clear repeatedly, or if he was just trying to get her even more worked up.

Either way, it worked.

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she moaned, and it came out like a plea.

That seemed to be all he needed to spur him to action, because his hands immediately hooked in the sides of her underwear, sliding them down her hips and then letting go so they fell in a heap at her ankles.

He put his hand on her calf, gently lifting her right leg to free it, and pressing a shiver-inducing kiss to the inside of her bent knee before releasing it, and then repeating the action with her other leg.

That left her standing in front of him, completely naked, practically trembling with need.

She pulled him up, desperate for him.

And she wasn’t disappointed.

Their bodies slid together perfectly as they kissed, and Clarke relished the feeling of his bare skin against hers from head to toe, their chests pressed tightly together and his erection resting firmly against her stomach.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to _taste_ him. But all she could do was hold on to his shoulders and let herself get swept away as Bellamy tilted his head, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and turning the kiss dirtier than any she’d ever experienced.

She gave as good as she got, tangling her tongue with his and sliding her body against his, desperate for friction anywhere she could get it.

Before she could even process what was happening, he’d lifted her leg, again hooking it over his hip, and slid his fingers back inside her, his thumb finding its way to her clit.

Her kisses turned sloppier, needier, as he moved his fingers in and out, his thumb simultaneously rubbing circles against her, and she knew it would only be a matter of seconds before she lost any semblance of control she had left.

She broke the kiss, moving to whisper shakily in his ear, “I don’t want to come on your fingers. Not the first time.”

He stilled against her, his breathing harsh as he pulled back to look at her, his eyes so _so_ dark. “My tongue?” he asked, his voice huskier than she’d ever heard it.

Clarke felt herself involuntarily clench around his fingers, cause _God,_ even the thought of that did positively disastrous things to her.

She wasn’t sure how, but she managed to shake her head, reaching down to wrap a hand around his length, stroking him slowly.

His eyes slammed shut. “ _Fuck_.”

She chuckled, leaning forward to nip sharply at his chin. “ _C’mon, Bell_.”

He moved so quickly, she barely had time to blink before he’d slid his hands under her thighs, lifting her easily.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, letting the wall support her back as she kept her eyes locked on his, even as she could feel him reaching down between them.

She’d _just_ closed her eyes at the sharp stab of pleasure that shot through her when the head of his cock bumped against her clit…when he swore again, but not in a good way.

She opened her eyes, ready to curse the universe, because _what on earth was the problem now_ and _if she didn’t get him inside her immediately, she might very well cry._

“Condom,” he said shakily. “They’re in the bedroom.” He moved his hands back to her hips, as if to help her back to her feet.  

She locked her ankles around his back, tightening her legs, the decision made before she even had a chance to think about it.

She didn’t need to think about it.

This was _Bellamy_.

She trusted him more than she’d ever trusted anyone.

She’d trust him with her life.

And she wanted to _feel_ him.

She wanted to feel everything.

“I’m on the pill,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “And I’m clean.”

He just looked at her, a bit more of that awe on his face. “I’m clean too. And I…” he cleared his throat, glancing away from her. “I haven’t been with anyone since you came back.”

Clarke felt hope bloom in her chest, but she tried to quell it, just a little. He’d been dating Gina at the time, and their relationship continued for a couple of weeks after Clarke’s return, so he must have meant he hadn’t been with anyone since their break-up.

“You mean…after Gina?”

His eyes found hers again, and they were so open, so honest, it seemed like he was baring his soul. He shook his head. “Since you came back.”

Clarke smiled, not even trying to contain how happy that made her. She slid her fingers into his hair. “I haven’t been with anyone since I came back either,” she admitted.

He looked a bit surprised and so relieved she could almost taste it.

She decided to, leaning forward to capture his lips with hers.

This time, she was the one who reached down, taking him firmly in hand and guiding him to her entrance.

He pushed slowly inside, kissing her all the while, his hands firm under her thighs as he held her steady.

Clarke gave herself over to everything she was feeling, blocking out everything but him.

The smooth glide of his tongue over her lower lip.

His hands squeezing her legs…then sliding up to squeeze her ass.

The way her nipples slid against the hard muscles of his chest.

The way he stretched her so perfectly, even the slightest movement sending sparks of electricity through her.

He finally slid all the way in, his pelvis bumping into hers at the _perfect_ angle…and she couldn’t stop the orgasm that washed over her.

It wasn’t super powerful in intensity, more like a gentle wave of ecstasy that turned her boneless and made her go liquid around him.

She tried to keep kissing him, but she knew her movements weren’t very coordinated.

He paused, looking at her in disbelief. “Did you just…?”

She leaned her head back against the wall, nodding wickedly, her eyes still half closed.

“ _Jesus Christ, Princess_ ,” he muttered, surging forward to kiss her again.

Her… _responsiveness_ …must have been what pushed him over the edge, because he gave up all pretext of gentleness or hesitancy, snapping his hips into hers at a moderate pace, but with enough force to make her toes curl.

She met him thrust for thrust, her nails scratching at his shoulders as she started building toward another peak already.

Actually, she wasn’t sure if was a new one or if she was still riding the last one and climbing higher, but whichever it was, she _wanted it_.

He trailed messy kissed down her neck, turning his attention to her breasts, and she didn’t even try to hold back the indecent sounds that were leaving her mouth as he nibbled his way toward her nipple.

He _feasted_ on it, flicking it with his tongue, then gently using his teeth, then sucking and licking at it until she could feel every one of his movements on her nipple in her clit.

Then, just when she thought she couldn’t stand any more…he moved to the other breast.

She let loose a moan that probably should have embarrassed her, but it just seemed to spur him on.

He repeated his actions on the other side, and just when that nipple started to get painfully hard, the intensity almost too much, he pressed her more fully against the wall, moving one of his hands from her ass to slide it in-between them.

His fingers grazed softly over her clit, and suddenly, the intensity wasn’t too much. She needed _more_.

She slid her hands firmly into his curls, holding his head against her chest. “ _Bellamy_ ,” she breathed, and she wasn’t sure if it sounded like a plea or an order, but either way, he seemed to understand, doubling his attentions with his mouth, his hand, and his hips.

She was practically panting above him, drowning in sensation, sure she’d never felt something so amazing in her entire life and simultaneously wanting it to last forever and wanting to reach the peak immediately, because she couldn’t even imagine how wonderful the end was if the middle was this mind-blowing.

She didn’t have to worry about that for long though, because with a particularly powerful thrust of his hips and a sharp nip from his teeth, she was _gone_ , clenching around him as he continued fucking her through it, drawing out her orgasm even as he gentled the motions of his hand and his mouth.

When she finally regained some sort of control over her body, she pulled his head back up to hers, kissing him thoroughly.

He walked into the bedroom, still carrying her, and still hard inside her.

They separated, just for a moment, to situate themselves on the bed, and that’s when Clarke pushed him to his back, crawling on top of him.

She kissed him gently, almost chastely, which was in direct contrast to how she moved after that, sitting up and then lowering herself on to him slowly, making them both moan.

She moved slowly, riding him, her hands on his chest as she maintained eye contact, wanting to chuckle at the curses that were falling from his lips, but unable to, because every time she moved, a new bolt of electricity shot through her.

Honestly, she’d been doing this to put on a bit of a show for him, pretty sure she was done for the night, but this angle was hitting the _perfect_ spot inside her, and the way he was watching her hungrily was getting her worked up again already.

She grabbed his hands, which were on her hips, helping to steady her, and slid them up to cup her breasts, leaving her hands on top of his, finding it unbelievably erotic.

Before long, her head tilted back of its own accord, her back arching as it all started to become too much.

“Do you have any idea how fucking breathtaking you are?” he asked, voice completely wrecked. “Like something out of a goddamn fantasy, Clarke.”

She smiled lazily, leaning down to kiss him.  

He kissed her back for a moment, then took the opportunity to flip them over.

Bellamy captured her hands in his, twining their fingers together and holding her hands down on either side of her head. “You got another one in you, Princess?” he asked breathlessly.

All she could do was whimper against his lips as he snapped his hips into hers again.

He nodded, kissing her jaw. “You can give me another one.”

She could give him another one? She was pretty sure he was the one giving them to her, but she wasn’t about to argue the point.

They stayed like that for a moment, their hands joined as he moved slowly, and it was the most sensual experience of Clarke’s life.

He kissed her, all tongue and teeth and the more he lost control, the filthier it got.

Eventually, his thrusts started becoming more erratic, fast in a way that was making her see stars, and all she could do was wrap her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as he buried his head in her hair.

“God, Clarke, I can’t believe this is finally happening. I can’t believe…” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but Clarke wasn’t even sure he’d meant to say what he did.

He seemed a bit out of it, frenzied and desperate.

She could relate.

She slid her hand into his hair, holding him close as she met him thrust for thrust. “I know, Bell. I know. And it’s good. It’s _so good_.”

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek. “I love you. So much.”

She nodded, her eyes closing as she fell even further into the whirlpool of sensations assaulting her. “I love you too.”

She’d barely gotten the words out of her mouth before he was moving, taking her legs, which she’d wrapped around his waist at some point, and pressing them toward her chest.

His first thrust at this new angle made her actually scream, although she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, moaning into it as he pounded into her at a brutal pace that was hitting all the right spots, every time.

The closer and closer she got to the biggest peak she’d ever climbed in her life, the less she cared about the burning stretch in the back of her legs, and she pulled them closer to her body herself, desperate for more.

It allowed him to get closer, and he latched onto the side of her neck, sucking on it and sending her flying even higher.

“Come on, Princess. Come for me,” he said, voice pitched so low and sounding so _destroyed_ , it gave her a whole new layer of sensation on its own.

Just after he said it, he bit down _hard_ on her shoulder, and she couldn’t stop the orgasm that ripped through her, making her scream his name as her entire body tensed with more pleasure than she’d ever experienced before.

Everything seemed to go a little white and fuzzy after that, but she vaguely registered him losing his control mere seconds after she did, cursing into her neck as he spilled himself inside her.

He gently lowered her legs, and then went to move off of her, but she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him back down on her, the thought of him not being pressed against her more objectionable than the thought of his weight crushing her, at least for the moment.

She stayed like that, riding her high and enjoying the feeling of his body on hers, for what didn’t seem like nearly long enough before he was pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then one to her lips, then pushing himself off of her.

She whined softly at the loss of him, but couldn’t bring herself to do much else, including open her eyes.

She wasn’t sure if she dozed off, if it was a post-earth-shattering-orgasm haze, or if it was a bit of both, but she stayed mostly out of it while was in the bathroom for a moment, and then even while he came back out and gently cleaned her up.

It wasn’t until he slid back into bed with her and tugged her into his arms that she managed to open her eyes, even though she still couldn’t manage it for more than a few seconds at a time.

He ran his knuckles gently down the side of her face, the tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at her like he still didn’t quite believe she was there.

She just stared back at him, smiling softly as she blinked through her exhaustion, knowing she’d never felt more content in her entire life and hoping that he saw that.

He shook his head slowly, his face on the pillow beside hers. “You screamed my name when you came,” he whispered, his voice a little awed. “Do you know what that does to a guy?”

She chuckled, moving forward to kiss him softly.

She wanted to scream his name when she came every day for the rest of her life, and she’d be sure to tell him something to that effect the next time she could string more than a few words together at once.

But for now…

“I love you,” she whispered.

He tugged her in closer, wrapping his arm more firmly around her back. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ....................SO? 
> 
> WHAT DID YOU THINK?! Was it worth it?! 
> 
> Sorry. Writing this chapter was just....a lot. Lmao
> 
> P.S. This wasn't a "song fic" but I did have the confession scene planned out from the beginning, and it reminded me a bit of these lyrics...
> 
> *And maybe some day  
> If love comes our way  
> We'll be walking in the meadow in the early spring  
> You'll be twirling in a sundress wearing my ring  
> Can you see it  
> Girl I believe that  
> It's true  
> All I ever wanted  
> All I ever really wanted was you*
> 
> "All I Ever Wanted" by Chuck Wicks...hence the title.
> 
> P.P.S. One chapter left!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Remember when I wanted to get this finished before Season 4 premiered?  
> Remember when I used to update faithfully twice a week?  
> HAHAHA let's all laugh together.
> 
> Welp, here it is FINALLY. The last chapter. Enjoy!

Clarke woke up slowly, as she usually did, cocooned in a warmth that felt _wonderful_ ; just a degree or two shy of too hot, in a perfect way that made her feel boneless and content and _safe_ beyond measure.

She kept her eyes closed, snuggling into it…and into a bare chest.

Her eyes popped open, staring at the wall of Bellamy’s chest, which wasn’t unusual…but it was shirtless, and that _was_ out of the ordinary.

As more of her sleepiness left her, she became aware of a few other things…like the fact that they both seemed to be completely naked. And the fact that their legs were tangled together and his hand was resting firmly…unapologetically… on the curve of her ass.

She tilted her head up just a bit, seeing the underside of his jaw and not much else, but his breathing seemed deep and steady, like he was still sleeping.

Clarke took a moment to get her bearings, a little afraid to believe this was really happening, because she’d definitely had dozens…maybe hundreds of dreams like this before…but then she shifted her hips slightly and noticed a definite _tenderness_ that made her realize that this was all very real.

Last night came flooding back to her…the fight…the confessions…the _sex_ …and she closed her eyes, smiling as she leaded forward to press a soft kiss to his chest, sure she’d never been happier in her life.

As much as she loathed to leave his arms, nature was calling, so she gently slid out of his grasp, tiptoeing to the bathroom.

By the time she’d peed, freshened up a bit, and tiptoed back out into the bedroom, he was awake, lying on his back and smiling sleepily at her.

She returned his soft smile, making her way back to bed and crawling playfully on top of him.

His hands immediately came up to rest on her back, and she just took the opportunity to stare down at him for a minute, tucking her hair behind her ear as she leaned over him, their faces just inches apart.

They smiled a little stupidly at each other for a while, until she finally lowered her lips to his.

He ended up rolling them to their sides and helping her slide under the covers with him so their bodies could tangle together.

The kiss remained surprisingly soft, just the gentle grasp and press of lips and the quiet slide of their hands over each other’s skin. It was like now that they’d gotten their immediate passion and built-up sexual frustration out of the way, they were both just taking some time to _revel_ in all the love that existed between them.

They eventually separated, just a bit, going back to grinning stupidly at each other, their heads resting on the pillow just inches from each other.

All that happiness…all that joy…got to be a bit too much, and Clarke scooted forward, burying her face in the side of his neck. “ _God,_ Bell.”

His hand came up to tangle in her hair, holding her close. “I know.”

She stayed there for a minute, soaking up the feeling of being this close to him, without any physical or emotional barriers between them, before she forced herself to scoot back a bit.

There were some questions she really needed answers to.

She moved away from him, propping her head up on one hand and using her other to gently skim his chest.

 “Since I was 18?” she asked quietly, still shocked at that admission.

He nodded, one side of his mouth lifting in a half smile.

“How? When? I thought you hated me back then.”

“I never hated you. I should have, but I didn’t, and I couldn’t help but notice how damn hot you were, and it pissed me off,” he admitted. “That’s why I was such an ass at first.”

She couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that escaped her, because that made _so much sense._

“But it wasn’t until that first Thanksgiving that I realized it was a lot more than that,” he continued.

She tried to think back, remembering the day, but not in too vivid of detail. It had been over six years ago, and it was a little hard to think back that far with all the emotions assailing her and the reminder that they were naked in bed together never far from the forefront of her mind.

Now that she thought about it though, things had seemed to shift after that between them, their relationship heading away from antagonism and more toward the friendship and respect they had later.

“I kept trying to deny I was attracted to you by reminding myself that you were a spoiled little princess and that you were all the things I despised: selfish, uncaring, cold. Octavia had to drag me to dinner, practically kicking and screaming,” he admitted, his thumb rubbing what seemed to be unconscious circles onto her stomach as he talked, his tone and his caress apologetic. “But then you opened the door with flour in your hair and all over your cheek and…” he shook his head. “I felt like I got punched in the gut, but I still didn’t understand why.”

She let her hand move, thumb caressing the side of his neck as she watched him…listened to him…feeling love bloom in her chest in quantities she didn’t even know were possible.

She wanted to kiss him, but she had a feeling that once she did, they wouldn’t be doing anymore talking for a while, and she _needed_ to hear the rest of this story.

“It wasn’t until later that I finally let myself admit what it was I was feeling,” he continued.

“When? Why?” she asked, unable to help her curiosity.

“We were making the stupid pies,” he told her, his smile a little sheepish at how silly it sounded.

She remembered sending Octavia to help her mom on the other side of their large kitchen and roping Bellamy into helping her with the pies, and she remembered having a surprisingly good time with him, but nothing particularly notable had happened, at least not to her recollection.

“I kept griping about all the work you were making me do and you just kept laughing and throwing pumpkin seeds in my hair while you rolled out the pie dough and it was…” he shook his head, as if a little embarrassed with himself. “I realized you were nothing like I’d thought. You were…sweet and funny and…you kept glancing over to make sure Octavia was having a good time… And the whole time, you had these _damn_ streaks of flour everywhere…”

Clarke chuckled, not being able to resist leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his chest. “That was what did you in? Really? Flour in my hair?”

He gave her a bit of a side eye, but the minute he started speaking again, his face turned unbelievably soft. “It was just…like I said, I always knew you were hot, okay? I wasn’t blind. And sometimes, especially when we’d been fighting, all I could think about was shoving you up against the nearest wall and fucking you senseless.”

Clarke couldn’t help the sly smirk that crossed her face. “Glad you finally followed through,” she teased.

His hand tightened on her waist as his eyes darkened a bit. “Killing me here, Princess.”

She chuckled, patting his chest placatingly. “Sorry. Continue.”

He pursed his lips, glaring at her playfully for a moment before he continued. “So you were hot, right? But I’d probably thought hundreds of women were hot in my lifetime. I could still tell myself I hated you. But standing in your kitchen…wearing a giant apron and covered in flour…grinning at me and throwing pumpkin seeds in my hair…you were _adorable_ ,” he admitted, sounding embarrassed to admit it, even now. “I realized that everything you did made me smile. When we were fighting, when we were having fun, when we were both looking out for O…everything. You made me smile. And I realized I wanted to make you smile. …and that’s when I realized I was well and truly fucked.”

Clarke grinned at him, as taken in by that explanation as she was everything else about him.

“I didn’t really know I was falling in love with you then…but it’s when I realized I _could_. And after that…I don’t know. Everything changed. After that…everything you did made me get stupider and stupider over you,” he admitted, still a little shy about the entire thing. “Like I said…well and truly fucked.”

“Well…at least I understand your love of all things baked now,” Clarke teased, leaning forward to press her lips to his softly, her heart genuinely warmed by the honesty in his confession.

He shrugged, his face coloring a little, although he maintained steady eye contact with her. “It reminds me of when I started falling in love with you. One of the best memories of my life.”

Clarke let that sink in for a minute, wishing she a similar story to tell him…but she didn’t. “I didn’t have a moment like that,” she admitted, sounding apologetic. “I kind of wish I did. But it was more like…” she paused, trying to figure out a way to put it into words. “…like I just looked back one day and realized I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t love you.”

He was just smiling at her in that soft way he had, the one that was reserved for her and made her feel like she was the only one that got to see this vulnerable side of him.

“I realized that I’d been ignoring it for years. I kept thinking of you as ‘Octavia’s brother’ long after you and I had gotten really close and it wasn’t until, well…someone said something to me…that I realized that you were my… _person_ , with or without Octavia even in the same time zone. And then I realized why I’d been ignoring it. Because if I admitted _just_ how important you were to me…I’d also have to acknowledge that I was in love with you.”

He took her hand in his, putting it on the bed between them, palm-side up, and running his fingers gently over her palm, then trailing them up and down her fingers. “In love with me, huh?” he asked quietly, his eyes on their hands.

“Yeah,” she answered softly, earning a shy smile from him.

“Should I ask who said something to you that made you realize it?”

“Uhh…probably not,” she admitted with a slight chuckle.

He raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“Um. It was Murphy,” she said cautiously.

He immediately groaned, flopping his head onto the pillow and burying his face.

“You like Murphy and you know it,” Clarke teased, running her hand over his shoulder.

Bellamy raised up just a few inches, just enough to glance over and give her an impressive side eye.

She laughed brightly. “Okay, okay. You don’t _hate_ Murphy anymore and you know it.”

He rolled his eyes a bit but grumbled good naturedly. “So I’m guessing he knew I was in love with you?”

Clarke contemplated it for a moment. “Yeah, probably. He didn’t say that though. He just made me realize that you were angry at me for leaving you too, not just your sister.”

Bellamy made a noise of acknowledgement that sounded a little sad.

Things rapidly slid into place in Clarke’s mind with the force of a punch to the gut. Her eyes widened, a stricken look coming to her face. “Oh my god,” she whispered.

Concerned, Bellamy propped himself up on his elbow, using his free hand to cup her cheek. “What is it?!”

“I… _left_ ,” she whispered, sounding horrified.

He raised an eyebrow. It’s not like that was news to him. “Yeah…”

She shook her head, trying to figure out how to say what she needed to, even as she felt tears coming to her eyes. “It was bad enough when I thought we were just friends. But you were…”

He smiled sadly. “In love with you?”

Clarke nodded, horrified. She couldn’t imagine the pain she’d go through right now if he abandoned her. Losing your best friend was one thing, but losing the love of your life…

She had no way to know if that’s where he was at or not, of course, but that’s where she was, and she felt like her heart was breaking for both of them. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He shook his head, wiping a stray tear off her cheek and pulling her to him. “Hey, don’t do that. I forgave you a long time ago.”

Clarke shook her head against his chest, angry with herself. “You shouldn’t have. I…”

“Broke my heart?” he asked quietly, without any malice. “Yeah, you did.”

She cried harder against his chest.

“Clarke…you also put it back together.”

She shook her head harder, her hand clenched into a fist against his stomach.

“Yeah, I loved you before you left. That’s why I was so angry at you for leaving. But I was also angry with myself, because I thought maybe I didn’t do enough…maybe I wasn’t good enough to make you stay. You were in so much pain and I just wanted to _help_ and obviously I…wasn’t enough,” he admitted softly, the words breaking both their hearts. “And then I had your mom telling me…”

She pulled back just enough to see his face, hers anguished and confused. “…my mom telling you what?”

He looked at her sadly, seeming to regret admitting what he had. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We’re together. We’re happy. I never wanted to make you cry again. We were supposed to be done with that,” he chastised gently, rubbing his thumb gently over her cheek again. “Can’t we go back to talking about how pathetic I am over you?” he joked weakly.

She shook her head, sitting up and pulling the sheet with her and tucking it under her arms to cover most of her nakedness. “I _knew_ there was more to what happened with you and my mom. What did she say, Bellamy?”

He sat up slowly beside her, the sheet pooling around his waist. “Clarke…” he said, shaking his head reluctantly.

“I want to know,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He sighed. “She blamed me.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “Blamed you for w _hat_?”

“You leaving.”

“ _Why?!_ ”

“She, uh…said that I made you…uncomfortable,” he admitted quietly, obviously ill-at-ease as he stared at the bedspread they’d kicked to the foot of the bed at some point.

Clarke was getting more angry and more confused by the second. “…uncomfortable?!”

Bellamy huffed, his face turning red as he finally spit out the words that had tortured him for _months_. “She said that my ‘ _pining_ ’ was making you uncomfortable. That you’d never feel anything for me other than friendship and I was…I was part of what pushed you away. Like you couldn’t deal with your stalker best friend while you were dealing with everything else too.”

Clarke felt heat flood her entire body, a rage she wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced before consuming her to the point where she wouldn’t be surprised if there was literally smoke coming out of her ears.

Without even really thinking about it, she started crawling off the bed.

Two strong hands reached out, grabbing her around the waist and halting her progress. “Where are you going?” Bellamy asked.

“I need to get my phone,” Clarke said, her voice practically trembling with the anger coursing through her. “Or no, I need to do this in person,” she decided.

The hands on her waist tugged, sliding her back into the spot she’d just vacated and then remained there, making sure she didn’t leave again. “You’re not getting into it with your mom again. Not over me.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “ _Bellamy_ , she…” she shook her head, not even able to articulate how horrified she was at what her mother had said…at everything she could have screwed up. “She doesn’t get to do that to you. She doesn’t get to do that to _us_ ,” she insisted, trying to scoot out of his grasp.

Bellamy scooted her even closer. “Just stop and listen to me. Please?”

It was the ‘please’ that did it. A man like Bellamy saying ‘please’ wasn’t something to be taken likely.

She stopped fighting, giving him a curt nod, although her jaw was still set in a hard line as she tugged the sheet back up.

“She was hurting too,” he told her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the inside of her elbow. “She’d lost you too, and she knew it was mostly her fault, and she wanted someone to lash out at…somewhere else to place the blame.”

“That doesn’t make any of this _okay_ ,” Clarke insisted curtly.

“No. It doesn’t. But it…” he sighed, looked away from her. “It took me a long time to realize that’s what she was doing. At first I thought she hated me but…she was just in pain,” he finished with a slight shrug of his shoulder. “And she apologized, multiple times. That’s what you walked in on Christmas morning. She was telling me she was wrong. She actually, uh…thought we were already together, by that point.”

Clarke thought back, remembering the conversation that had abruptly ended when she’d walked into the kitchen.

“I’m serious, Clarke. I don’t want this to be a problem for you two. She apologized. She and I are okay, mostly because we both know how much we both love you.”

Clarke just watched him for a moment, chewing the side of her lower lip as she contemplated.

“You can go…yell at her…or whatever. Later,” he clarified. “But I don’t want to come between the two of you. Okay?”

She wrestled with it for another minute, searching his face to make sure he really seemed okay. “Fine,” she agreed, letting out a long sigh that drained some of the tension from her body. “But mostly because leaving this bed…and you…is the last thing I want to do right now.”

He chuckled, pulling her into his chest and wrapping an arm around her back. “I can handle that.”

“I’m definitely yelling at her tomorrow, though.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded, “I can handle that, too.”

She pulled back, searching his face intently. “You know what she said wasn’t true, right? Not at all.”

“I mean, I think logically, I did. But at first…” he shrugged, obviously still uncomfortable. “I still didn’t understand why you’d left like you did and…I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to it.”

“ _Bellamy, no_.”

“She wasn’t wrong. I had been pining for a long time. I kept thinking back…going over our interactions…trying to remember if I’d ever said or done anything out of line. If you’d ever seemed…”

Clarke put her hands on either side of his neck, which meant the sheet didn’t exactly stay where she’d tucked it around herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She forced him to look at her. “Stop it. _Never_ , Bellamy. If anything, I was always looking for ways to spend more time around you...ways to get even closer to you.”

He made a noise in his throat, something that sounded a little uncertain.

“I’m serious! Ever since we became friends…being with you has always made me feel… _happy_ and _safe_ in a way I’ve never felt before. But not safe in a boring way. You drive me _insane_ and you challenge me and, the past few months, there’s been this sexual tension that’s made me feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust…but through it all, I knew how much you cared about me. I knew you’d do anything to protect me. I knew I could trust you. That’s not…” she shook her head, deciding to go for broke. “Bell…that’s a once in a _lifetime_ kind of thing.”

He looked a little stunned at that proclamation, but didn’t say anything.

“I promise, nothing you did ever made me uncomfortable. Bell…I honestly didn’t even start to think you might like me…like _that_ …until a few months ago. Honestly, if anything, I couldn’t be around you because you were too good to me.”

He gave her a disbelieving side-eye.

“I’m not kidding. You made me feel safe and happy and…loved, even when we were just friends,” she admitted. “You always tried to absolve me of my guilt, take on my burdens so I wouldn’t have to shoulder so much. And I…I didn’t think I deserved that, Bell. I didn’t think I deserved _you_ ,” she said quietly, but with no hesitation. “Me leaving was my own fucked up fault. Don’t blame yourself for that, ever.”

He watched her for a minute, trying to gauge her sincerity, then nodded subtly, pulling her against his chest.

She sighed against him, feeling even more of the tension drain out of her as she relaxed into the warmth of his body.

“So what you’re saying is…I should’ve been more of an ass,” he teased.

She snorted. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

They both chuckled for a minute, just holding onto each other, until Bellamy shifted a bit nervously. “Clarke?”

“Hmm?” she murmured against his chest.

“The uh…” he cleared his throat. “The ‘once in a lifetime’ thing? For me too.”

She closed her eyes, letting the happiness she was feeling consume her. She’d had a feeling, but it was nice to have it confirmed. “Yeah?” she whispered.

She could feel him nod against the top of her head. “Earlier, you were talking about how I didn’t have to commit to a label or some shit and all I could think was that I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d have me.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her chest and she leaned back, needing to see his face. “You’re…insane,” she attempted to joke, kind of needing a moment to process and also kind of giving him a chance to turn that proclamation into a joke in case he regretted it already.

He smiled softly at her. “Am I?”

She let herself get lost in the warmth of his eyes. “No,” she admitted quietly.

He wasn’t actually proposing; that much she knew, no matter how her heart had kicked into overdrive at his words. He was telling her that he was so sure of their future, so sure that they were a forever kind of thing, he’d have no problem making that official immediately if that was what she wanted.

He was telling her he was _in_.

For life, if she’d have him.

“We were idiots, weren’t we?” she asked quietly, still a little lost in his eyes.

“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation, then asked for clarification. “Which time?”

“We could’ve been doing this for _years_ ,” she lamented. “Seriously. Like…five or six years of cuddling and _the best sex I’ve ever had in my life_ and feeling like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. What the fuck was wrong with us?”

He was watching her with a look that was a little unreadable. “I don’t know, Clarke.”

She tilted her head in confusion. She’d sort of expected immediate agreement, especially since he was the one that had been aware of his feelings for much longer. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Maybe we weren’t ready,” he admitted quietly. “I loved you back then. I did. And I like to think that I would have been able to man up and be the guy you deserved. I would have tried my damndest, I know that. But sometimes, I’m not sure it would’ve been enough. Maybe we would’ve fought over something idiotic or maybe one of us would’ve made a stupid mistake and the other one wouldn’t have been able to forgive them. I loved you back then…but it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. Getting to know all of you…losing you for a while…realizing how damn important you are to me…I love you even more now. Enough to know that fights and stupid mistakes…none of it matters. _You_ matter,” he said fiercely. “I like to think we could’ve made it, that we would’ve matured together and still gotten here. But what we have now? The relationship we have now? It’s everything, Clarke. So I can’t be all that sorry about five years of the best friendship I’ve ever had, even if it meant I had to pine like an idiot. I can’t even be all that sorry about the year I spent in agony, missing you. Because it all got us here. And now? I have zero doubts about us making it.”

Clarke processed that for a minute, recognizing the truth in his words and nodding a bit. “I didn’t really start to realize how important you were to me until I lost you,” she admitted quietly. “Which, I know, makes me an idiot. But when I realized that, yeah, I missed other people…Raven, your sister…even my mom…but I…” she closed her eyes for a second, her voice catching on the admission. “God, Bellamy, I _ached_ for you. It felt like there was a hole in my chest and I didn’t even realize you’d been occupying the space until you were already gone. And even then, I pushed my feelings away,” she said frustratedly. “So maybe you’re right. Maybe there was too much stupidity and immaturity and uncertainty and pride and shit in the way. I don’t know, Bell. I like to think we would have made it, though…that we wouldn’t have let this get away.”    

He picked up her hand, pressing his lips gently to her palm in that patented move that made her knees weak every time. “Me too,” he said softly.

“But you’re right,” she agreed, gently removing her hand from his grip and sliding it to his cheek. “The way I know you now? The relationship we have now? I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, and they kissed gently, his hands smoothing softly over her back, his touch letting her know how much he cherished her.

He pulled away slowly, kissing her cheek. “While we’re confessing…You remember the house I wanted to build? The one I wasn’t sure was in the cards?”

Clarke nodded.

“It wasn’t really about money. I just…” he sighed, glancing away, a bit of color climbing his cheeks. “I pictured you there with me. I didn’t really want it without you.”

Every time Clarke thought she was in as deep as she could possibly go, that this man sitting in front of her couldn’t possibly say or do anything that would make her fall in love with him more…he proved her wrong. “Bellamy…” she whispered, voice full of emotion. “ _Build it_.”

His eyes lit up with even more happiness, even more love, and she realized he was going through the same thing she was.

She decided to take a page out of his book, throwing caution to the wind and showing him just how _in_ she was. “While we’re confessing…” she said, deciding to go for broke and not even that nervous about it. “I want to have your babies.”

He grinned, immediately pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that started off sweet and happy, then quickly morphed into something downright possessive, his lips demanding on hers.

He ended up pulling away, thunking his head down on her shoulder with a groan.

“What?” she chuckled.

“It’s a good thing you’re on the pill,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

“Why?” she asked, absentmindedly running her hand through his hair.

“Because apparently I’m a caveman,” he admitted wryly. “You said that and now all I can picture is you pregnant with my kid and…” he groaned again. “ _Fuck_.”

Clarke glanced down, the thin sheet over his lap doing little to hide exactly what his body’s response to the thought of knocking her up was.

She felt an answering call in her own body, and then it was her turn to groan. “Yup. Good thing I’m on the pill,” she agreed, scooting her body a little closer to his.

Honestly, it was kind of beautiful in all its primitiveness. They were both so certain about each other, the thought of a lifetime commitment…something as significant as a _baby_ …didn’t send them running for the hills. It was _exciting_.

Apparently, it also made them want to go at it like rabbits.

He pulled back a little to look at her. “The best sex of your life, huh?” he asked cheekily.

She swatted at his chest. “You know it was, jackass.”

He caught her hand with a laugh. “For me too,” he admitted.

She looked at him a bit dubiously.

He tugged on her hand, sending a wry smile her way. “You always bring up my shady past. I was young and stupid and shit like threesomes sounded like fun. But watching the woman you love throw her head back cause she can’t handle how good you made her feel? Feeling her nails on your shoulders, her fingers tugging at your hair…begging you to make love to her?” his voice was getting lower, raspier with each sentence, and it was doing wicked things to her. “Hearing her _scream your name when she comes_ and feeling her milk you dry and then curl up in your arms and tell you she loves you? Princess… _that’s_ the stuff fantasies are made of.”

She went a little stupid at that speech, staring at him dumbfoundedly. Her brain might not have been firing on all cylinders at the moment, but her libido certainly was. She was just getting her legs underneath her, ready to throw herself at him when he said something else.

“You know…I have another fantasy I’d really like to experience,” he said huskily.

“Oh?” she asked breathily. That’s really all she could manage at the moment.

He nodded, drawing out the suspense for a moment before saying, in the sexiest voice she’s ever heard, “It involves my head between your thighs.”

She knew she let a whimper loose, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, because suddenly they were kissing again; insistent, and dirty, and more than a little frantic.

Her hands were sliding over his shoulders, trying their best to hold on…to bring him even closer.

His hands were sliding all over her back and sides, then pushing the sheet away so he could pull her against him fully.

She sighed at the feeling of their bare chests sliding against each other, quickly deciding that it was one of her favorite feelings in the world, but then he was grabbing her around the waist, flipping her to her back, and kissing his way down her body, until his lips reached…

_Oh_.

_That_ was also one of her favorite feelings in the world.

It really shouldn’t surprise her that he was damn good at it.

She closed her eyes, letting him drive her crazy with his lips, and his tongue, and…

_Oh, God_.

Yup. That was definitely his teeth.

He built her up and up and up, licking into her in a way that had her toes curling and her hands grasping the sheets tangled on the bed beside her.

By the time he’d settled his tongue on her clit, lashing at it in an unpredictable pattern, and slid his fingers inside her, she was so _so_ close.

The pleasure was building up inside her, threatening to consume her, and she glanced down, wanting to see him, to have a more tangible connection to him, but the sight of his dark curls between her legs was too much, and her eyes shut of their own accord.

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she managed to choke out. “ _Come here_ ,” she begged, reaching for him.

He reluctantly stopped what he was doing, looking at her with confusion.

“It’s amazing. _You’re amazing_ ,” she reassured him, trying to put her thoughts into words, which was a little difficult with the haze of passion clouding her brain. “But I close my eyes and I’m afraid I’m still dreaming. I need to kiss you. I need to touch you.”

It was hard for her to explain, and probably sounded silly, but after imagining this for so long and thinking she couldn’t have it, she needed to _feel_ him. She needed to be able to wrap her arms around him and hold on tight before she’d be able to let herself go.

Honestly, she just needed a little while for her body to be able to catch up to her mind in realizing that yes, _she got to have this_.

He slid up her body slowly, pressing sweet kisses along her torso and running his hands soothingly over her sides, which were shaking a little. “I got you, Princess. I’m here, you know that, right?”

“I know, Bell,” she answered, pulling him down to kiss her. “I need you,” she whispered against his lips.

His kissed her, his body firm and heavy on top of hers, fitted against her like a puzzle piece, and she let herself drown in it. In him.

They’d have time to learn each other’s bodies later…time to try the dozens of things they’d both been fantasizing about for ages.

They’d have all the time in the world.

_This_ was what she needed right now, while she was still getting used to the fact that her wildest dream was coming true.

She needed him pressed against her from head to toe, his lips on hers, him losing control at the same time she did as he was buried as deep inside her as he could possibly go.

After being denied for so long, she needed all of him.

He seemed to understand, because he kissed her impossibly sweetly, murmuring how much he loved her against her ear as he reached down, positioning himself at her entrance.

As he slid slowly inside, kissing at her cheek and jaw the entire time, she couldn’t help it when her eyes practically rolled back in her head and her heels slid restlessly against the sheets.

It was _so good_.

She couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect it was between them.

He fit inside her _perfectly_ , in a way she didn’t think was even possible. Any larger, and it would probably be uncomfortable, but he was just big enough to give her that delicious stretch…the one that added that tiny bit of pain that made the pleasure more incredible. The one that allowed her to feel every vein…every ridge…every _twitch_. The one that sent tremors of electricity through her entire body.

He didn’t even have to move for it to feel fucking incredible.

“ _God, Bellamy_ ,” she moaned. “How do you feel so fucking perfect? It’s like…” she paused, whimpering as he ground his hips in a tiny circle against hers. “…it’s like we were made for each other.”

He stilled against her for a moment, then moved, pulling almost all the way out before sliding all the way back in, getting her to make another one of those noises of complete abandon he was so fond of. He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her mouth, all so sweetly it almost brought tears to her eyes. “Haven’t you figured it out by now?” he whispered. “We were.”

Clarke gave herself over to everything he made her feel, letting herself go, because she knew he was right there with her. She knew he’d catch her. 

_She’d once lamented that having a best friend and lover all rolled into one could be awful, because losing both in one fell swoop would have to be agonizing._

_But the thing is…it could also be amazing._

_Because sometimes, you fell in love with them as a person before you fell in love with them as a potential partner, which made it all the more genuine._

_Sometimes, you realized that having them in your life was more important than anything, which meant you’d do everything in your power to keep them._

_Sometimes, you realized that attraction and lust weren’t always enough, but when combined with trust and actual_ love _, they could be indescribably wonderful._

_Sometimes, you realized that everything from baking pies to watching classic sitcoms to having sex all felt different…were all so much_ better _when they were done with someone you adored with your whole heart._

_Falling in love with your best friend might not always be easy, but if it worked out?_

_That was a feeling like no other._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who's made it through all 38 chapters, 127k words, and 174 years of angst. 
> 
> I know it sounds silly, but writing this was actually really personal and I feel like I left a little piece of my soul in it, so thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, and especially those who have left comments. You guys have no idea how much comments mean whenever I'm having a bit of writer's block or when I'm feeling discouraged. It's really nice/validating to know when other people are enjoying what I've spent ages writing. (If you've made it this far, I'd LOVE to hear what you guys thought. <3)
> 
> I've already got a few other fics in progress and ideas for a few more, (and I love this universe I've created, so future one-shots are always on the table here too,) so I hope you guys will check those out once I get them finished.
> 
> Anyway, come flail/yell at me/give me ideas on Twitter, if you'd like [@notnicorette](https://twitter.com/notnicorette)
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys! <3


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